


June

by StopitGerald



Category: Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Despair, Awkward Romance, Confusion, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established friendships, Eventual relationship, Grief/Mourning, Minor Suicidal Thoughts, Mutual Pining, Teenagers, Underage Drinking, character disappearance, long time crush
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-11-20 04:41:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 18
Words: 43,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11328819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StopitGerald/pseuds/StopitGerald
Summary: Naegi Makoto's best friend is named Kyouko Kirigiri.-In which something goes terribly wrong and Makoto has to deal with the aftermath.{COMPLETE}





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The notes on this story are very important. First, I want to say that this is based on something that happened to me when I was 10/11. Naturally, this is altered to fit characters that are 16/17 and also to fit a relationship in, but most of the details of the plot actually happened. So this is placed in a suburban town in the U.S. rather than Japan. The characters are still themselves, It's just easier to write what you know, and I know about how these sorts of things work in America, not Japan. Thank you for reading!

Makoto Naegi isn’t a pushover, not in the slightest, but he _is_ overly optimistic. When someone asks something of him, it’s not that he _can’t_ say no, but rather that he usually doesn’t want to. He’s one of those people who can find the fun in anything that’s asked of him. Always seeking out the silver-lining. So, standing in the grand foyer of Byakuya Togami’s house, he finds himself feeling quite glad he’d chosen to attend.

The walls around him stretch high, high up into a vaulted ceiling, and the rug beneath his feet is the same crimson as his sneakers. The color scheme reminds him of those Victorian Style homes he’d learned about in history. Grays and tans trimmed in red. It’s all stunning, but what really catches his eye is the chandelier hanging above his head. On any ordinary day, one could hear the soft chiming of the iridescent crystals knocking into one another, but Makoto can’t pick it out over the talking.

Ah, yes. The _talking._ Wrapped up in the luxurious furnishings of Byakuya’s home, Makoto had almost forgotten just why he was here.

It was a party, though the host would cringe to hear that informal word associated with his home. School had ended just the other week, and what better way was there to kick-off the season than with the last get-together for their class? He turns towards the chattering, tearing his eyes away from the chandelier to look at the group gathered at the far end of the foyer. He smiles at them all, starting towards the crowd. His shoe squeaks against the dark hardwood flooring as he steps off the rug and a pair of eyes snap towards him.

“Makoto!”

Aoi Asahina shoulders her way between two taller students, waving her arms in the air enthusiastically. She was one of his best friends, and certainly the most excitable. She skids to a halt in front of him, her smile showing her bright teeth. He’s still smiling, but he wavers in surprise when she takes his arm and leads him, nearly bouncing in excitement, to the center of the crowd. For a moment, he’s worried she’ll do something to put him on the spot, but all she does is hold up a finger to him. He understands the ‘wait-a-moment’ gesture as she disappears into the mass of people. There should only be about 14 others here, but the way they stood, bunched up so tightly, gave the feeling that there were more people than that.

Aoi returns quickly, dragging someone else behind her. Makoto smiles as he recognizes the familiar face, raising his hand to wave one time in greeting. Kyouko Kirigiri smiles back, although her smile is a simple upturn of the corners of her lips, unlike Makoto’s wide grin. Coming to stand beside him, she dusts her skirt off with her hands, despite the fact that her clothing is spotless. Turning her head towards Makoto, she opens her mouth, presumably to say hello- only to be cut short by Aoi.

“I can’t believe grumpy went and threw a party!”

She laughs a jovial sound that rings out among the loud conversations of the other kids around them. It’s put to an end, though, when the calmer girl begins to speak up, continuing what she’d been _trying_ to say a moment ago.

“He didn’t,” Kyouko crosses her arms over her chest matter-of-factly, “His father set this all up. He wants to make a good impression on the headmaster.”

Makoto chuckles, it _had_ seemed pretty unlikely that Byakuya Togami had planned for every single one of the kids in their class to show up at his house. It made sense that his father wanted to get along with Kyouko’s. They were both important people, after all. The owner of the Togami Corporation and the headmaster of the best High school in the region. Even if, by some stretch of the imagination, the heir himself _had_ planned it, he would at least be out here with them all. Makoto had gotten good at picking the blond, six-foot-tall boy out of a crowd over their last year of school, and as of right now, he’s nowhere to be found.

The past year had been a good one. Makoto liked school; the lessons were fine, and so were the teachers, but the best parts were the opportunities to make friends. Byakuya had presented him with a challenge. Though the boy had thrown insult after insult, trying to fend off the optimism and friendliness of the ‘commoner’, it’d ultimately done no good. Makoto was just too kind to let any of the distasteful remarks get to him. He’d wanted to make a friend out of Byakuya, and he had.

“Where is he, anyways?” Asks Aoi, cocking her head quizzically. She touches her chin with her forefinger and her lips turn down as if she’s currently pondering the answer. It wasn’t that hard to decide just where he was. He was as far away from this mess of students as he could possibly get. He’d allowed himself to spend time with Makoto occasionally, but the same could not be said for the other students.

“I can go look for him.” Makoto volunteers, his brain already narrowing down the places he should look. Aoi and Kyouko share a quick look, their eyes glint with mischief that the boy isn’t sure he understands. The quieter of the two nods, a steady hand coming up to grip his shoulder and give him a small push forwards in encouragement. That was Kyouko’s way of telling him to go ahead, and Aoi gives him a thumbs up. They turn away to join the other female students in what he assumes to be a ‘gossip circle’, and Makoto chuckles at them and heads for a hallway just behind the crowd. It’s as good a place to start looking as any.

As he enters the crowd, he’s forced to duck under Leon Kuwata’s arm as the red-head hurls what can only be a baseball at another student. The chaos reminds him of the hallways during school, and the thought that this is Byakuya’s house makes him pity whatever housekeeper will have to pick this up later. He side-steps around another student, almost tripping on their shoes as he finally breaks free of the bodies and into the entryway to the hall.

The art that lines the walls looks more expensive than anything Makoto’s ever owned, a reminder that Byakuya is from a completely different world from him. Rather than let his wealth be a negative point, he does what he does best and finds the silver lining. For him, it’s wonderful that Byakuya is so different. He’d been impossible at first, with a steel exterior that no one could dent, but Makoto had managed to sneak between the cracks. He was proud to say he’d made a friend out of the snide boy.

As he gets further and further away from the foyer, the sounds of his classmates turn into a blended cacophony. At the end of the hall, an archway marks the start of another room, the kitchen. Makoto had been here very few times before today, and it hadn’t been the most fun. Byakuya’s house made him feel like he should be silent, still, and polite. Nothing like one wants to feel when they go to a friend’s. He counts his footsteps as he approaches the kitchen, the dull thuds mingling with the numbers in his mind.

_One, two, three…_

He can see a mahogany dining table sticking out from the right of the view of the entryway, and to the left, the island that sits in the center of the kitchen.

_Four, five, six…_

He’s standing almost in the kitchen now, one of his hands rests on the strip of wall that makes up the frame of the entrance, and he places one foot in the room, almost as if he expects something to happen as soon as he enters. He hadn’t expected to get lucky or anything, this was simply where he’d chosen to look first, but standing in the area between the island and the kitchen counter, next to the sink, is Byakuya.

He doesn’t know Makoto has come into the room, as his back is turned. The bit that the smaller boy can see of his face looks drained like he’d rather be resting right now, but all he’s doing is standing there, a glass in one of his pale hands. He shifts his weight, the fabric of his jacket bunching up as he does so. Makoto doesn’t know he’s staring until he missteps and his sneakers squeak on the white tile beneath them.

Byakuya turns around slowly, like any sudden movement will cause something bad to happen, but when he’s fully facing Makoto, his face relaxes. Despite not seeming annoyed by his presence, he deadpans, “Don’t attract them.” Makoto knows he’s talking about the others, of course, as if they were flies, but he supposes that makes him the honey. And he’s alright with that. He laughs, “I doubt they can hear me all the way down here.”

Byakuya wrinkles his nose in distaste and leans back onto the counter the slightest bit. Makoto feels pride in the fact that the high-strung boy can relax so freely in his presence, even though it’s a small victory in the eyes of any of their friends. Well, Makoto’s friends. They were different around one another. Byakuya, a little softer, and Makoto, a little quieter. His classmates would often watch, in mixed awe and puzzlement, as he and Byakuya walked to class together.

“I think Leon is throwing stuff,” Makoto says, hoping that maybe, just maybe, that will be enough to lure Byakuya out of the kitchen and to the foyer with their classmates. If this was their start-to-summer party then he should be there as well. Unfortunately, the heir shrugs it off, taking a sip out of the glass in his hand.

“-My father’s idea,” He sets the glass down on the counter and straightens himself to stand up fully, “He’s simply paying for it.”

Makoto can’t help but chuckle at the nonchalant tone in his voice. “I’m glad he did this. My summers always start off boring.” It was true, the stall at the start of the break was the only part of summer he didn’t enjoy. It was usually as he tried to decide what he wanted to dedicate his newly opened schedule to. A party would surely help him to stay entertained, and it was proving true for the others as well.

The smirk that curls into Byakuya’s lips makes Makoto’s chest feel funny, and he knows that the other boy is thinking something fueled by sarcasm and arrogance. It was common of him to make remarks, but for the past few months, none of them seemed to hold any malice at all. His comments weren’t venomous anymore, just a bit rude. It was just the way he spoke, it seemed. At least to Makoto.

“Aren’t all your summer days boring?”

Ah, there it was. The comment is exactly what Makoto had expected. More of a joke than anything. So he laughs and decides to play along. He strokes his chin and purses his lips as he mocks deep, profound thought. When he turns his gaze upwards, the hanging pendant light shines brilliantly into his eyes, and it illuminates the dark granite counter tops on both the island and the kitchen counters. The kitchen was almost ordinary, if not for the expensive appliances and fixtures.

“Hmm,” He looks away, colors bursting in his vision from looking into the lightbulb, “They used to be boring, but then I met you!” He goes the route of joking flattery, knowing that it’s one of the ways to throw the other off of his guard. And surely, the other coughs into a balled fist as the lightest touch of pink grows high on his cheekbones. Makoto smiles, and moves closer, resting his hands on the cool, flat counter as he leans against the island. Byakuya does the same, letting his hip rest against the edge of the structure as he works the blush off his face.

There’s a moment of comfortable silence before Makoto speaks, “Got any plans for this summer? Maybe with less-“ A sound cuts through the casual atmosphere, and Makoto recognizes it instantly. It’s a scream, but not one of fear or pain, one of simple high school idiocy. They’d never been the best-behaved bunch of kids. Makoto can’t help but to try and contain his laughter, seeing Byakuya’s eyes roll at the noise, “With less screaming?” He finishes, his eyes glinting comically.

Byakuya scoffs, but his face betrays him. His lips are upturned, amused at Makoto’s remark. He turns away, presumably to hide it, and grabs his drink back off of the other counter before returning to the island. He stands closer to Makoto this time, within arms distance. The brunette decides the silence means, “No, I don’t have any plans,” so he hoists himself up onto the island with his arms, getting comfortable so they can chat longer. The taller boy’s smile flicks to a glare at his antics, but he doesn’t tell him to get off, nor does he change his relaxed posture, so Makoto stays in place. His hands lie flat, palms down on the counter behind him so he can lean his weight back.

“You should come to my house,” Makoto muses, kicking his dangling legs out gently like a child, “It’s nothing like your place, but it’s nice. I think.” He looks over at the other boy, trying to gauge his reaction. He’d been to Byakuya’s home, but never the other way around, and this summer could prove to be the perfect opportunity. It would be nice, he thinks, to show the other where he lived. He briefly considers the state of his room and decides he should probably clean up first. Byakuya probably wouldn’t appreciate piles of laundry and messy sheets.

He doesn’t do anything at first, but after a moment he furrows his eyebrows. His glasses slide down his nose a bit at the gesture, and he makes no move to fix them. “Why would I go to your-“ He stops short, and his hand moves up to his face, pausing by his cheekbone. His expression is situated as if what he’s going to say is derogatory, and though Makoto is used to it, Byakuya drops it, opting for, “Your house?” Instead. The little shift in tone seems to make the entire conversation’s mood change. He was being considerate, and even though he’s perfectly capable of it, Makoto hadn’t expected it. He finally presses his glasses back up from the bridge of his nose and he drops his hand back to his side.

Makoto frowns, not sure what the answer to his question is. There’s no _reason_ for Byakuya to consider coming over, except for the fact that it’s something friends do with one another. He laughs, although a bit awkwardly, and scratches the back of his neck. Tuning into the faint chattering in the foyer, he focuses on trying to pick out individual voices for a moment as he thinks. He has to give a reason, Byakuya wouldn’t win this one.

“Because you’re my friend!”

He blurts it suddenly, startling himself as it comes out a bit louder than expected. That _was_ his reason, after all. Friends did those sorts of things, and Makoto wouldn’t be denied. But his accidental shout seems to have had more of an effect on Byakuya than he’d meant it to. The boy had been taking a drink off of his glass when he’d said it, and he’d apparently tried to breathe in and swallow at the same time; he’s coughing now, a fist balled in front of his mouth as his body racks with the effort. Makoto panics, scooting further down the island and hitting the boy sharply between the shoulder blades to aid him.

It takes him a moment, but Byakuya regains his composure, eyeing the glass on the counter like it was the inanimate object’s fault he’d been startled. His cheeks are flushed, and Makoto doesn’t know if it’s from embarrassment or choking, but he takes the hand that still rests on the taller boys back and squeezes his shoulder gently. Byakuya’s face falls back to its usual emotionless expression, and he relaxes again, sighing. He doesn’t seem to have anything to say, nor does he try to shift out from Makoto’s touch, so they stay that way for a moment.

“Am I interrupting something?”

Makoto jumps at the sudden voice, twisting around to look at the entryway behind them. It’s Kyouko, and she stands in the center of the arched entrance with her arms crossed. She’s smirking ever so slightly, her slim eyebrows raised in question. Makoto scratches the back of his neck with his free hand and quickly removes the one that rests on Byakuya’s shoulder. All they’d been doing is standing in the kitchen, so why does he feel like he’s been caught red-handed? Byakuya’s posture tenses as he straightens up fully, turning around to face her.

“Hah, no, Byakuya was-“

Makoto had planned on telling Kyouko the full truth, that the other boy had inhaled his drink and had been coughing, but Byakuya obviously doesn’t feel like that’s necessary information. He interrupts the smaller with a cold tone, but it’s not directed at him, rather, it’s a facade for Kyouko.

“Telling you to get off my countertop.”

He crosses his arms as well. It would seem that now that Kyouko had shown up, Byakuya is done being friendly. At least his own idea of friendly. He stands tall, scowling at the girl through glasses lenses that reflect the glare from the lights up overhead. Makoto rolls with it and hops down off the counter and makes his way over to the girl, leaving the other standing next to the island alone. The boy always got stuck between the two when there was tension like this, but Kyouko pays Byakuya’s glare no mind. It’s typical of her to disregard him, and today isn’t any different.

“Quite a… party you’ve got here.” The smirk drops off her face as she speaks, nodding to Byakuya over Makoto’s head. He hears the other boy scoff but doesn’t turn around to fully face him. Instead, he decides to shift slightly so he’s directed at the dining room. This way he can see both of them. The table in the adjacent area is long, with nearly a dozen chairs. At the end of the room is a large window, trimmed in white. The sun outside is low, it’s late afternoon now, and Makoto almost misses what Byakuya says next as he admires the view.

“You mean a madhouse.” He makes a face, twisting his features in displeasure momentarily. He hadn’t even come to see the others yet, but if he had, he probably would’ve walked right back out. There was a small number of them, but they were boisterous and excitable. Makoto is among them in their feelings, he’s as ready for summer to start as any of them. He smiles at his friends, glad to see the small talk, although disparaging, releasing some of the tension.

Byakuya steps away from the center of the kitchen and towards the other two, his long strides bringing him to stand next to Makoto, facing Kyouko.

“My father thought this was such a wonderful idea. Now he’ll see that not all people my age have my level of maturity.”

The arrogant tone of his voice makes the statement more adamant than it would have been otherwise. The way he upturns his nose makes him look and sound more like the Byakuya Togami he was in front of their schoolmates and his family, and less like the one that had been with Makoto mere moments ago. Kyouko shakes her head, just once, as if she’s trying to stop herself from rolling her eyes, and Makoto decides to break the ice.

“I’m pretty mature, right?” He grins at them, rocking back on the heels of his sneakers as he waits for a response. Both sets of eyes fall on him, and they look him over in an almost critical manner. For a moment, he feels awkward, like they’re both going to have something to say at the end of their analyzing. He feels relieved when Kyouko smiles, her shoulders shifting in a silent chuckle. Byakuya doesn’t smile, but his eyes don’t hold any of the judgings that are painted onto his face. His eyes always gave him away.

No one answers him, and it goes unspoken that no, he’s not the most grown up person they know. He decides that it’s because he knows how to have fun. Those two are just sticks in the mud.

“How long did your father plan this to be?”

Kyouko shifts her gaze from one boy to the other, raising a single eyebrow.

“Until someone destroys something, I suppose.”

Byakuya would only seem more disinterested if he was falling asleep. It truly doesn’t matter to him what the others are up to, and Makoto supposes that’s part of the appeal in his friendship. If he wanted to be around you, he would. He wasn’t the type of person to spend time pretending to care what the others were doing just to save face. It’s only when a particularly loud crash rings out down the hall and into the kitchen that Togami’s expression shifts. That one had been much louder than the others they’d been hearing all this time.

His eyes shut and he brings a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose in silent exasperation. It really had been a terrible idea to bring them all into such a refined home, but Makoto laughs all the same. He turns his head to look at Kyouko, and her lips are stretched back into a smirk.

“Looks like they’ve managed it.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also! Let it be known that I DO NOT dislike Kirigiri! I love her with all my heart, the plot is just the plot and does not reflect how I feel about certain characters. Also, I don't know a lot about strong alcohols because I'm allergic to yeast lmao.

A ‘party-animal’ isn’t really something that Makoto is. He’s just always down to have fun, whether the activity was _truly_ fun or not. When he got the memo that Yasuhiro Hagakure, a drop-out who lived a little ways out of town, was throwing his own summer party, he found himself rushing to ask if Kyouko and Aoi planned on going as well. He’d been warned by the stoic girl that anyone and everyone would show up to this party. When he’d asked why she was so sure, the answer had been one simple phrase.

_“Hagakure is 21.”_

Alcohol, that meant, and in the eyes of freshly graduated high school kids, whether they were 15 or 19, it was a party that just _couldn’t_ be missed. It's only been three days since the ‘get-together’ at Byakuya’s, but Makoto feels excited to attend another. He wasn’t a huge fan of alcohol, nor had he had many experiences with the substance, but it wasn’t like he _had_ to drink if he attended. It was just an option, after all.

He stands at the end of Kyouko’s driveway with her, waiting for their ride. Sakura Oogami was the only one in his friend group who had a car, except for Byakuya, of course. He had told his parents, very simply, that he was going to Kyouko’s. They’d been friends since they were in diapers, so it raised no further suspicion. And the girl, in turn, had told her father that they were going ‘out’. Jin Kirigiri trusts his daughter, and Makoto feels a little bad that they were taking advantage of that.

Kyouko shifts next to him, her braid fallen to rest on her shoulder, and she elbows him when the sight of Sakura’s car comes around the corner, towards them. Kyouko didn’t live like Byakuya did, in some sort of gated community, but she did live in the nicer area of the suburbs. The beat up, old car looks strange driving past the minivans parked in the driveways of the identical houses. It rolls to a stop near them, and Makoto smiles at Kyouko as he rounds the front of the car to get to the other side of the back seat.

“Hey, Makoto!”

Aoi nearly jumps out of the passenger seat as she leans back to greet him, her eyes shining with excitement. Makoto returns the grin as he situates himself, closing the car door as Kyouko does the same. The girls nod hello to one another, and Sakura reprimands Aoi for her antics and gently pushes her back into her seat. She was caring, and always looked after her friends. Makoto often found himself looking up to her.

The drive is slow and leaves Makoto restless. He’s enthusiastic, this could be fun! The sights of the town only change when Sakura makes a sharp turn onto a less maintained road, the car bumping up and down at the sudden change in asphalt. Hagakure didn’t live in a bad area, per se, it was just an area where a lot of people didn’t go. No one had ever tried to build a neighborhood or a grocery there. It was just woods, that was all.

The woods are all Makoto can see as he looks out the window. Both sides of the road slope downwards steeply as if they were driving on a narrow ridge. He supposes it’s because they’d had to landscape to even make building a road possible on the uneven terrain. It’s not a drop-off or anything, but he still doesn’t think it’d be fun if you accidentally drove off it. No, it would definitely suck. He stops looking out the window, turning his attention to Kyouko instead.

Kyouko doesn’t see him looking, she’s fiddling with a little purple charm, an attachment to her phone case. She hadn’t been enthralled about going, but Makoto had pleaded. He didn’t want to go without her, so here she was. The car had settled into a comfortable silence, the radio playing some sort of rock music at a low volume. He almost considers asking them to turn it up, just to give himself something to focus on, but he doesn’t. His train of thought derails and quickly switches tracks as he sees the house roll into view.

It’s early evening, and the outside lights give the place a yellowish glow. It’s a single story house, with red shutters and white siding. A simple place, but a number of cars parked in the cleared yard around it gives it the feeling that there’s a lot going on. And there probably is. They weren’t late, they were actually quite early, and Makoto is glad. Any longer and the place would’ve been entirely swamped. It was a party for everyone after all, not just his own class.

Sakura is the first to step out, and Aoi quickly follows suit. He glances over at Kyouko, who says nothing as he clicks open the car door to get out. Grass meets his shoes as he hops out, looking over the car parked next to them, towards the front door. It’s swinging open, inviting in the guests all on its own. He begins to make his way through the yard, Aoi prances over to walk just in front of him.

The house is pretty small, there’s a small foyer area that immediately opens up into the dining room and kitchen. The people in the kitchen are what draw his attention first, they’re all gathered around a red cooler, holding cans. The alcohol, he reminds himself, that was what everyone had come for, after all. He’s given a little shove on the shoulder and Kyouko pushes past him, taking the lead through the main area of the house towards the back door, which is also hanging open.

The backyard seemed to be where everyone was, and it surprises him that quite a few of the kids are already finding themselves uncoordinated and losing coherence. He guesses that it would be the same for him since he hadn’t ever had anything to drink before. He recognizes a few of them: Leon and Sayaka, Mondo Oowada, and then Hagakure. The tall man is sitting in a deck chair, leaned forward to entice his apparent audience. A group of people are huddled around an unlit fire pit. Their eyes are wide with bewilderment. Makoto tunes into them for a moment and deduces that Hagakure is giving them one of his ‘clairvoyant’ stories. At least, he _says_ he’s a clairvoyant.

Aoi almost knocks into him as she drags Sakura by her arm. She seems reluctant, but she allows the smaller girl to drag her towards the area where the group is, obviously interested in whatever story is being told. He can’t spot Kyouko, she’d probably gone back inside. So Makoto finds himself interested in the rest of the yard. A few kids are scattered here and there, in small groups, some holding red solo cups, others with cans. He only takes particular note of someone who sits alone, and it takes him a moment to register the face.

“Byakuya!”

He brightens, his eyes widening in surprise and enthusiasm at the sight of the other boy. The taller’s eyes meet his own as he recognizes his name being called. His resting poker-face shifts and he adjusts his glasses with one finger as if he’s making sure he’s seeing this right. Makoto could say the same, He feels just as surprised. Had Byakuya really shown up to this kind of party? Makoto never took him for a drinker, but he’d never thought to ask.

“What are you doing here?” He laughs, cocking his head in curiosity, taking a few steps to get closer to the other. The sitting boy’s posture shifts and he sits up straighter, looking upwards just slightly to maintain eye contact.

“I could ask you the same.”

Makoto smiles, “I think parties are fun. I didn’t think you did,” He takes the Adirondack lawn chair across from Byakuya, bringing his heels up into the large chair with him to sit with crossed legs. “Or are you just here for the drinks?” He’s only teasing, but he supposes it could be a possibility. There doesn’t seem to be any other reason he’d want to come to such a party, or place. He was a person of higher taste, and this wasn’t really some exquisite getaway.

Byakuya scoffs at him and wrinkles his nose. “No, I didn’t come for,” He glances a can that's been thrown on the ground nearby, “Cheap beer.”

Makoto shakes his head, chuckling, “Well, I’m glad you’re here anyhow.” It was a mystery why he’d decided to show up, but he figures he might as well enjoy it while they’re here. He’s about to strike up another conversation when someone jogs over to them, stopping and sounding a bit out of breath.

“Hey, want this?”

Makoto looks up from his chair to see Aoi, who’d run over from the crowd gathered around Hagakure, who’s now gesturing animatedly into the air. She’s holding a can in her hand, outstretched towards him grandly. He doesn’t know whether to accept or turn it down. Byakuya is looking at them two of them with his usual poker-face, but Aoi seems so genuine about the offer that he takes it, thanking her before she turns to run off. She had already seemed out of it, and Makoto wonders just why everyone was so excited about the alcohol.

He glances across the way at Byakuya before deciding the lack of derogatory comments means it’s safe to at least give it a try without receiving a reprimanding. He snaps the tab open and raises it to take a drink. It’s almost bitter, and the smell is what hits him first. He knows enough about alcohol to know it wasn’t supposed to taste really good, at least not in this case. It was cheap like Byakuya had said, but he finds himself drinking more of it anyways.

Time starts to slip away as he talks to the other boy. They talk about school next year, plans after senior graduation, and even about other students. Byakuya has self-control, yes, but he _really doesn’t want_ to drink the crap, nor does he want to wake up at Hagakure’s the next morning with a hangover. Meanwhile, Makoto finds that one drink, offered by a friend, turns into two, and that turns into three. Every time he finds the can empty, he excuses himself for another. It’s nearly what he’d call foul, but he’s young and he’s living. He enjoys it.

Byakuya makes no moves to stop him when he goes in for his sixth- or was it his seventh? The other saw no harm in the fact that the smaller boy wanted to waste himself. He wouldn’t be the one waking up with a hangover the next day, after all. Makoto stumbles into the doorway, trying to avoid knocking into a student he doesn’t recognize. A senior, probably.  He makes his way over to the cooler, the ice encircling his hand and making him shiver as he gropes for another can. His fingers finally settle around one, but he’s startled into dropping it back on the ice when someone taps his shoulder.

He straightens from his bent position too quickly and his head spins. Standing beside him is Kyouko, and though he smiles at her, she doesn’t return it. In fact, she doesn’t look too happy at all. He wonders if she’s angry with him for drinking, but it doesn’t seem to be the case. She leans in closer to him, bringing her lips near his ear to whisper.

“Makoto,” Her voice is quiet, she sounds uncomfortable, secretive. “I’m going to go.” She pulls away too fast for Makoto to process correctly in his state, and he pulls his head back in sudden surprise. His eyes meet a pair of lavender ones, and he doesn’t understand why they’re so clouded with worry. It was like she had something to say, but wasn’t saying it. Was it because there were other people around? Makoto stumbles towards her as she turns to go, a bit of worry pooling in his chest.

He tries to get to her, but she disappears in between two taller students, and as he drunkenly pushes his way between them, he finds himself pushed around by the crowd that had amassed inside. A clap of thunder startles him, and he realizes why everyone was inside now. He presses further forwards, trying to hurry to catch up with Kyouko. Someone is just too close, and when he tries to move, he trips over the toe of a sneaker.

He awaits the harsh impact of the ground or the feeling of being tossed into another student, but it never comes. What he does feel is strong fingers wrapped around his upper arm, and he’s pulled back upright. Byakuya is glaring at him, the people moving behind him are blurring in and out of focus. Makoto feels tired, just how late was it? He can hear, over the chatter, another crash of thunder. The taller boy, still seizing him by the arm, begins to drag him through the crowd and towards the front door.

Makoto looks around with hazy vision, but he can’t see Kyouko anywhere, he opens his mouth to speak, but is cut off by the sound of a car door opening, and then a hand on his shoulder, shoving him downward. The door slams before he can even think to protest, but he feels more at ease when the driver’s door opens and Byakuya slides into his seat. He can feel the places on his heated skin where the rain had fallen, and he can see the crystalline drops on the lenses of Byakuya’s glasses as he leans in to start the car.

“Where are we going?” He hiccups, a strange sensation accompanied by a nasty taste filling his mouth. It was Byakuya, he trusted the boy enough to know it was alright. Despite that, he still wants to know just where they were headed. It had to be at least after midnight, and now it was storming. Pretty heavily, too.

Togami just shakes his head and scowls at the road ahead, “You’re an imbecile, Makoto.” He sounds angry, but he doesn’t look so angry. He looks tired, and Makoto briefly wonders why.

The sound of the rain hitting the roof is all Makoto can hear as they drive. He still has no clue where they’re heading, but the thrumming of the weather is enough to send him, already dazed and disoriented, into a light sense of sleep. He rests his head on the cool window, closing his eyes. He can feel the tires bump as they go over the edge that puts them back on the road that goes towards their homes.

“Makoto.”

He doesn’t respond at first, relaxing against the material of the nice seats. Byakuya really did have a luxury car, didn’t he? It was too dark to tell, but his fingers, gently smoothing across the seat below him, can pick out that the material is leather.

“Makoto.”

It’s more adamant this time, and the tone forces the boy in question to open his eyes and let his head fall to the side, looking over at the driver.

“Hmm?” He murmurs, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He feels strange in his stomach, but he counts it up to drinking. Nothing had happened that he can’t recall, right?

“Are your parents awake at,” The boy’s voice falters as he looks at his dash, checking the time, “Two in the morning?”

Makoto scrunches his face up, trying to remember just what those words meant. Was Byakuya bringing him home?

“No?” He says, trying to straighten himself up, “-Don’t think so.”

Byakuya just hums in indignation, his fingers flexing on the steering wheel. His face is expressionless again, but Makoto turns over in his seat to stare anyways. His head is resting on the back of the car seat now, his droopy eyes fixated on the features of the other’s face as he concentrates on driving. He wonders what the others are doing: Are they still at the party? Had they left? Kyouko had disappeared, but had she gone with Sakura and Aoi? Yes, she had… Right?

He says that to reassure himself.

The car comes to a sudden halt, and he jolts forwards a bit. Byakuya is out of the car rather quickly, and as Makoto turns to try and find the handle of his own door, it opens for him. Byakuya’s hand wraps around his arm again, supporting him as he lifts him up. He grunts with effort as Makoto lets himself be almost fully supported by his grip, and he has to use both arms to make the boy stand completely.

“There.”

Byakuya nods once, his hair beginning to stick to his forehead with the rain, he gestures with a long finger towards the house who’s drive they’d stopped in, and Makoto realizes it’s his own, “Oh,” He tries to grin, “Thanks.” His voice is wavering, but he isn’t unsure of himself. He reaches out a limp arm to wrap around Byakuya’s shoulders suddenly, pulling the other in for a chaste, awkward embrace. He’s suddenly very tired. He didn’t know he’d be one of the ‘sleepy drunks’.

Byakuya doesn’t get back in his car even when Makoto turns and starts up his drive. He stands there, slowly getting soaked as he watches the other go. It’s not until Makoto is inside, with the door closed safely behind him that the other turns and gets back to his car. His cheeks are aflame with embarrassment at the touch, and he thanks God that Makoto had been too out of it to notice.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 Makoto has never been more filled with regret than when he wakes up the next morning.

His first instinct is to lie still and hope the feeling will go away, but when he’s pulled from the realm of sleep by a nauseous feeling washing over him, he’s forced to rouse himself. He stands shakily, and it all sets in at once. His head pounds like someone had smacked him over the head with a baseball bat, and his stomach feels like he was trying to digest chemicals. He nearly doubles over, groaning out loud, before he stumbles into his bathroom.

He takes a moment to appreciate the layout, glad the bathroom was attached directly to his room. He’s nearly sick as soon as he enters. The blinding white of the floor’s linoleum, lit up with the cheap lighting fixtures above the sink, make it hard to see where he’s going. He wishes he was back in his bedroom, still under the protection of his blankets. He manages to swallow back some of the bile rising in his throat. He really didn’t want to get sick.

He wonders what time it is as he leans on the bathroom counter on his elbows, bending himself to try and soothe his stomach. The sun filtering in through the single window in his bedroom lets him know it’s at least late morning, and he prays that he’s right. His parents would be out, and they hadn’t seen him coming home, had they? He vaguely remembers it being far too late for them to have noticed. As he tries to recall, it comes to him like a spring snapping back into place. Byakuya had had something to do with him making it home alright. He’ll have to thank him later.

He lifts his head to look into the mirror, shifting his weight from one leg to the other weakly. He’s unsurprised to see dark circles under his eyes and his hair a matted mess. He looked terrible. It’s what he deserves, he supposes, for letting a simple outing turn into a drinking party. He wants to blame it on peer pressure, but hadn’t he been offered the drink? He didn’t _have_ to take it. He frowns and sighs, blowing a loose strand away from his face. He’d gone and done it to himself. No one was to blame.

Another memory returns as he stares himself in the eyes, refusing to move due to the pain in his head. Kyouko… She’d left, hadn’t she? He tries to remember just how she’d gone. He doesn’t recall seeing Sakura and Aoi leave with her, but he doesn’t recall them staying at the party either. He supposes it’s up in the air for right now, he’ll call her later and check in. Right now he doesn’t think he can even leave the bathroom, it was just too uncomfortable to move.

A sound piques his interest from his bedroom, a soft noise that sounds more like buzzing than an actual sound. It takes him far too long to place what it is. He’s staring down at his bathroom countertop, his elbows sore from holding his upper half in place. It was his phone.

He groans softly, standing straight to rub his eyes with the back of his hand. He guesses that he’s being forced to go and check it now, as he hears it vibrating again. He jinxed himself by thinking that he’d just call his friends later.

He walks back into his bedroom, collapsing onto the edge of his mattress as he stares up at the ceiling. His hand closest to the nightstand gropes for his phone, closing around the edges and lifting it towards his face. He squints, despite the rays of sun coming in the window, and the bathroom light, it was still fairly dim. He goes to turn the brightness down, frowning as he realizes that it’s already all the way down. His notifications are empty, save for two texts.

**Aoi: Hope you got home okay :P**

He smiles fondly, clicking over to the next message.

**Byakuya: How’s that hangover treating you?**

His smile morphs back into a look of displeasure. He can almost hear the sarcasm dripping from the digital words, straight from Byakuya’s smirking mouth. He was always like that, but Makoto finds himself a bit huffy this morning. He was still so tired, and the acute sensation of his headache makes his vision blurry. The phone’s bright screen probably wasn’t helping.

**Makoto: Bad.**

He means his answer to sound curt, but he probably couldn’t have typed anymore if he wanted to. He’s sure Byakuya is smiling in satisfaction as if Makoto was being taught a lesson. He liked Byakuya, he really did, but now was not the time. As much as he wanted to throw the phone down and go back to sleep, his clock told him it was past noon, and he needs to know what happened more specifically, from someone who hadn’t gotten themselves drunk.

**Makoto: What even happened last night?**

**Byakuya: You drank too much. I did you a monumental kindness and delivered you home.**

Ah, so he _had_ brought the other boy home. Makoto had thought as much, but he’d been terribly disoriented. He feels stupid for taking advantage of the situation, especially after lying to both his and Kyouko’s parents. He should learn to be more responsible, but he’ll worry about that later. _Probably…_

**Makoto: Thanks for that btw**

He really was grateful for the help, but he feels like he’s hitting a wall. There was something he was forgetting, and he racks his brain, only increasing the pain of his headache. Something had happened last night, something that he can’t place his finger on. It had felt important at the time, but it must not be so pressing, considering that he’d allowed himself to forget it. But then when he tries to run the events of the night, from start to finish, through his mind, it clicks.

Kyouko _had_ left on her own!

She’d been there with him from the beginning, but as he’d slowly begun to drink, she’d said she was… leaving? Yes, that was it! He frowns and shakes his head, only to inhale sharply at the pain it causes to shoot through his temples.

**Makoto: Have you heard from Kyouko?**

**Byakuya: No, why would she communicate with me concerning her whereabouts?**

Makoto frowns as he tries to process the large words, pulling a face as he silently begs the other boy to just text like every other normal teenager. Still, he was completely correct. It wouldn’t make sense for Kyouko to talk to him, especially for no reason. They didn’t have a rivalry or anything, but they certainly weren’t good friends. Byakuya probably didn’t even have her as a contact. Makoto knows it was stupid to ask, but he thought it was worth a shot.

She’d probably gone home early because she wasn’t enjoying herself. She was like Byakuya in the sense that getting drunk wasn’t entertaining to her at all. He agrees with the pair wholeheartedly, but something in him had said to keep going even when his head got foggy. It was curiosity. Simple, teenage curiosity. He’d just wanted to know what it was like.

**Byakuya: You should stay hydrated. It’s the best way to fight a hangover.**

Makoto has to reread that text, his brow arching in confusion as he tries to decide whether he was being serious or sarcastic. It wasn’t an out-of-this-world concept for Byakuya to be kind to him, but it still wasn’t a common one either. It’s just friendly advice, but it still makes Makoto smile to see that the other was thinking about him. He’d already known that he should get a drink, considering his dry, itchy throat, but he’s thankful anyways.

He tries to stand, pushing himself up off of the bed onto his feet so he can walk to the hallway and down the stairs into the kitchen. His head rushes with the sudden movement, and he has to steady himself on the end of his bedframe with his hands, nearly dropping his phone. He lets the rest of his weight rest on the structure, clicking his phone back open.

**Makoto: Ugh, I feel terrible.**

The room is silent for a moment as he struggles with the motivation to make the rest of the trip. His head hurt and he was parched, but he’s still so tired…

**Byakuya: Do I really need to come and look after you? Are you not capable of that?**

It feels like a stinging remark at first, but the idea that Byakuya would even suggest coming over when just the other day he’d seemed so disinterested makes Makoto’s mood a little better. He tries to imagine Byakuya here in his simple home, and he manages to smile.

**Makoto: You _should_ come over.**

His face flushes as soon as he sends it, regretting it almost as much as he regrets this hangover. It sounded sort of desperate, even though all he wants is someone to talk to. Byakuya didn’t have tp come here to talk, they both had cell phones. He knows Byakuya will just let it roll off his shoulders with a sarcastic comment and then the conversation will go back to normal. He just can’t help the embarrassment.

**Byakuya: If you get sick on me you’ll be paying for dry cleaning.**

Makoto finds himself reading the statement like it makes perfect sense- until it hits him.

_Wait- What?_

**Makoto: You know where I live?**

He’s so dumbstruck that he can’t think of anything else to say to the other. Was he going to come to Makoto’s _house_? He’d wanted to do this eventually, but not like this. He was hungover and a total mess and Byakuya was just going to hop in his car and swing by like it was no big deal? It makes sense that it’s not a big deal to the other, nothing was ever too big a deal to him unless it directly interfered with his future company or his education. Still- Makoto is slack-jawed at the notion that he was actually interested in coming to see him! when he was sick, no less!

**Byakuya: I’ve known you for years. We live in the same town.**

The deadpan response makes Makoto feel even slower than he had a moment ago. He feels completely justified in his question though. Sure, the town was small and they’d known one another for a while, but he’d never come over before, nor had he ever asked what part of the town he lived in exactly. How he knows is beyond Makoto, but it’s one less text he’d have to send, so he lets himself be unbothered. What is bothering him, however, is the fact that he looks like- Well, like he has a hangover.

In front of Byakuya, he’d never tried to look perfect, but he’d also never looked like a washed-up mess either. This would be a first in more than one ways. Odds were that Byakuya wouldn’t even say anything about how he looked, but rather about how it was his own fault he had a hangover, and he’d already figured that out on his own. Byakuya had an attitude, but his first row of remarks usually didn’t have anything to do with looks. He wasn’t that shallow, contrary to what everyone seemed to think.

The other problem was one that wasn’t so easily solved. He tosses his phone onto his unmade bed and glances around his room blearily. It was getting brighter as his eyes adjusted to the natural light rather than the glare of his phone, and he blinks before taking in his room. The problem was about five different piles of laundry, a stack of old textbooks, and a very messy dresser. He had a simple room with a bed and some furniture, but one could hardly tell under all the teenage mess. Byakuya wouldn’t appreciate the state of it, but how would he pick anything up, feeling like this?

He decides, begrudgingly, to cross that bridge when he got to it. He’ll just have to take whatever Byakuya dishes out.

He lets himself flop back down onto the bed, landing on his phone and grunting at the sensation of it digging into his hip. He rolls off of it, trying to relax the muscles in his head, anything to subside the pain. It felt mellower now, maybe just a bit. Probably because he’d stopped thinking about it when he’d started thinking about Byakuya, but it was definitely still there. He looks over at his phone, frowning as he opens his messages again.

**Makoto: Front door should be unlocked**

He sends it quickly, wanting the glaring light to get out of his face as quickly as possible. His eyes flit over Kyouko’s name as he shuts his phone off again, but he tries to forget about the fact that she hasn’t sent him anything. She was probably busy, since she got up at a normal hour without a hangover, like a good teenager. His text had just been a forewarning to Byakuya, granted that he was really going to come over for what seemed like no reason. Was ‘taking care of him’ even a reason? He wasn’t three, he could deal with a little headache. Or, at least he was pretty sure he could. The way his forehead throbs makes him begin to think otherwise and he has no idea how long he’s lying in bed before he hears a car outside.

It was either Byakuya had actually come over, or his parents had come home early for some reason. He prays for the former, knowing that his parents will be able to see right through his lie if they ask him why he’s having so much trouble. The front door opens and it gently shakes the floor beneath his bed. It’s definitely not his parents because they usually slam the door closed immediately afterward. Their front door had a little trick to opening and closing it, and the quickest way to avoid it was to slam it closed rather than fiddling with the knob.

The thought of esteemed heir Byakuya Togami standing in his living room almost makes him laugh. As used to extravagant homes as the other was, he doesn’t seem fazed by the simple layout. Makoto can hear him making his way upstairs immediately. He’s left to wonder why the other had even suggested this in the first place as his footsteps grow louder. What was so compelling about coming to his dirty room to see him sick? Was Byakuya going to find some sort of pleasure in seeing him roll around in misery? He was surely going to say, “I told you so,” when he saw the other boy’s state, but why couldn’t he have just said that over the phone? Not that Makoto isn’t glad to see him, of course. He just feels like something is off.

More suddenly than he’d expected, a ray of light casts through the door as it’s swung open. Byakuya stands in the way, cutting a silhouette into the brightness of the hall light. He’s got his arms crossed over his chest, his face pulled into a light scowl.

“You’re an imbecile.” He takes a step in, narrowly avoiding stepping on a discarded shirt from an earlier night, “Also unhygienic and extraordinarily messy.” Makoto whines into the fabric of his shirt, which he’d pulled up around his cheeks to hide his embarrassment. He’s lying flat on the bed, his eyes fixated on the other’s figure. Byakuya stares right back before dropping his usual scowl and crossing the distance to his bedside.

“Don’t be so mean,” Makoto sits up slowly, rubbing his eyes for what feels like the hundredth time, “Why’d you actually come over?” He looks up from the mattress, straight up into the inscrutable eyes of the other boy. It was a fair question, considering this was pretty sudden.

“Do you really want to be in this state when your family returns home?”

His question shuts Makoto’s train of thought down abruptly, and he shakes his head in response only to whine at the burning the rough action creates all around his skull. Byakuya seems to discern his situation rapidly, rolling his eyes as he nods to Makoto.

“Get up.”

Makoto almost lets himself deny the other. He wants to whine and flop back into the pillows, but he does as he’s told. He stumbles as he gets to his feet, and a familiar feeling blooms through him as he realizes that Byakuya had reached out to steady him. All he’d done was step on some of his garbage, but the other had made sure he didn’t fall anyways.

He’s made to walk all the way downstairs and manages to not complain about it the whole time. He was never a big complainer, he was a happy guy, but today was just not his day. It was like he’d said before, his own fault.

Byakuya’s already invaded the kitchen by the time he makes it down the last step, his fingers leaving the side railing as he moves over to the other boy. He opens the cabinet that holds his family’s dinner dishes, but closes it and moves down to another cabinet. The next one has cups, and it seems to be his goal because he selects one at random and holds it under the tap. Makoto knows what he’s doing, and he feels grateful, leaning against the counter as he waits.

“Get yourself some medication.”

His voice is stern like it had been when he’d ordered him out of bed and down the stairs, but it doesn’t really make Makoto feel like he’s being ordered around. He feels more like Byakuya is helping him, and that in itself is already a wonderful feat. He shuffles to the other end of the cabinets, dragging his feet against the flooring. He leans up to grab a bottle of painkillers out of the top shelf, his vision blurring at the strenuous movement.

“You’re being awfully nice,” Makoto chuckles weakly, snapping the bottle open and dumping himself out a few pills. He reaches the other counter, grasping the cup of water made for him and lifting it to his lips. The pills have a sugary coating, and he allows himself to taste it for a moment before the medicinal taste begins to set in. He swallows hurriedly.

“What, I was supposed to allow you to rot in your room all day?”

Typically, that _is_ what he would have done. He must be in a good mood today and Makoto thanks the powers above for it. He’d still be lying in bed, wallowing in self-pity if Byakuya hadn’t forced him to be proactive. He seems a bit flustered, and his back is turned to Makoto as he stands in front of the oven.

“Well, thank you.”

He smiles genuinely, setting the glass back onto the counter. The medicine should start to help soon, and he relaxes with that thought in mind, letting his eyes flit shut as he stands in the kitchen. He isn’t sure what to expect next; was Byakuya just going to stay here now?

“Do you,” He trails off, unsure, before regaining his confidence, “Have any plans?”

Byakuya’s resting face flips back into a scowl, and his piercing eyes look right through the other boy.

“Of course not. If I had plans I wouldn’t be here.”

That was true. Although Makoto would probably do the same. He thought himself a good friend, but he wasn’t the kind to spontaneously care for someone with a hangover. That reminded him more of someone like Sakura than himself.

“Are you just gonna stay then?” He lifts an eyebrow in questioning, making his way past the other boy to sit on the closest end of the couch. If he was staying then this was all they’d be doing. It wasn’t like they did a lot alone together anyways. They usually talked and sat in silence, but it was nice. It was comfortable.

“I suppose.” His voice is unreadable, but he comes over to where Makoto is and sits next to him, his posture relaxing. This was strange, and a new feeling. Never before had Byakuya come to his home, or came to check in with him after a rough night. It’s a good thing, Makoto decides.

Neither of them is sure how long they sit there. The silence is broken when Makoto clicks on the TV, but he isn’t watching it. It’s some trivial program that neither of them has any interest in. He’s really just causing white noise as he lounges there, waiting for his headache to fade. He still feels terrible, but less so now that he was being looked after. A thought pops into his mind suddenly and he wonders why he left his phone upstairs and who’s messaged him today.

“Have you heard from Kyouko at all?”

He turns his head to look at Byakuya, who’s sitting up straight with his elbow resting on the armrest. He looks bored, but he hasn’t made any sort of movement to leave. He looks over to meet Makoto’s eyes as he answers the question.

“Again, no. Why?”

Makoto shrugs half-heartedly, “I dunno. I haven’t heard from her today.”

It wasn’t uncommon for Kyouko to just not want to talk, but he still can’t help feeling strange about it. Byakuya seems to disregard his comment briskly, his eyes flicking back to look forwards, as he stares off into thought. Makoto, feeling the need to be taken more seriously, sits up, frowning at the other boy’s lack of response to his serious question.

“What do you think she’s doing?”

Byakuya rolls his eyes, looking back to Makoto with a deadpan look on his face, “Makoto. Kyouko Kirigiri has not so much as spilled a glass of water before. Whatever she’s doing, she’s fine.” He seemed to have a sixth sense for the tone in people’s voices, and Makoto was no exception. He nitpicks the worry right out of his statement and puts an end to it. It was the truth, Kyouko never got herself into trouble, and if she was compromised she always managed to worm her way out of it. She was smart like that. Though it’s nothing short of what Byakuya would call slippery.

He leans back against the cushions again, resuming his disinterested posture. They weren’t doing anything, but Makoto finds himself enjoying it anyways. It’d probably be better if he was feeling up to par, but if this is what he’s being given, he’ll take it. He wasn’t picky about spending time with his friends. Makoto doesn’t realize that he’s leaning into Byakuya when he relaxes, yawning tiredly and letting his head droop. The other boy doesn’t make him move, but he’s rather unaccustomed to the unwarranted and unintentional touch. He finds that it’s not unpleasant, and almost allows himself to put an arm around the boy’s side to support him in sitting upright, but he hesitates.

As the two sit together in silence, the TV humming in the background of their thoughts, Makoto can’t help the small seed of worry that he feels will soon sprout. Byakuya said everything would be fine, but he can’t shake the feeling that maybe he’s not right.


	4. Chapter 4

Makoto often spent his Sundays with Aoi. She had a schedule, and the last day of the week was the day she went to the park to exercise. She was typically accompanied by Sakura, and Makoto would watch from the sidelines and enjoy the gifts of fresh air and sunlight. He feels much better today, propped up on a bench, watching intently as the two girls begin their work. He’s amazed at their endurance and strength, but sports have never been his strong suit.

It seems like Aoi is falling behind, she drags her feet and miscalculates her stretches, something she usually never has trouble with. She’d been at the party too, and she’d made the same mistake as most of the other kids, including Makoto. Her hangover had been just as bad, and consequently enough, working out the next day wasn’t the best recovery method.

Though he can’t hear her, he knows that Sakura is reprimanding her for her poor decisions. The look on her face is stern, but not unkind. Sakura would make a good trainer, he thinks. He’s got nothing better to do than watch them, so that’s what he does. He loses track of their repetitions after the fifth one when Aoi comes trudging over to him to grab her water bottle from the ground next to the bench.

Makoto nods to her after she sets the bottle back down, noticing her hesitation to get back out to the field. She takes a seat carefully, sighing. He doesn’t want to talk about his hangover from yesterday, but it’s something they had in common at the moment, and maybe Aoi had something she wanted to get off her chest.

“Yesterday was terrible,” He starts, recalling the events, “I probably would’ve died if Byakuya hadn’t helped me out.” Okay, maybe that was a _bit_ of an overstatement, but…

He laughs at himself, but Aoi doesn’t seem to find it that funny. She lifts an eyebrow, her face twisting in muddled confusion.

“ _He_ was looking after you?”

Her tone is incredulous like it’s impossible that the other boy had cared enough to check up on Makoto in his state. Makoto supposes that someone who didn’t spend any time around him as a friend wouldn’t know that he’s more than his hard exterior, but he’d be lying if he said it hadn’t surprised him as well. Aoi’s surprise is replaced with reluctance when Sakura calls her from where they’d been exercising, and she purses her lips in a scowl as she stands to go, obviously still suffering from the fatigue.

“Oh- Wait!”

Makoto reaches out to her as she starts back towards Sakura. He’d still yet to hear from Kyouko, and though he’d tried to reassure himself that it was fine, he figures asking around couldn’t hurt. She twists around, looking over her shoulder at him to show she’s listening.

“Have you heard from Kyouko?”

Aoi frowns, shaking her head, “No, I haven’t.” She steps closer to press playfully on his shoulder, trying to lighten the anxious mood that the question had created. “She probably left her phone there.” She glances back towards the field like she’s deciding to stay or to go, and after a moment she gives him a small wave and starts towards Sakura’s waiting figure.

It was possible that she’d forgotten it, but Kyouko wasn’t a forgetful person. She didn’t often misplace things or lose them. She’d seemed to be a bit panicked when she’d dashed out, so she could’ve inadvertently neglected to grab her phone in her rush. If she’d actually walked all the way back to her house, though, Makoto finds it hard to believe that she wouldn’t notice she’d left it. The internal tumult that the feeling of not knowing brings sets him on edge. Misplacing her cell was still a possibility, though, so he tries to calm his nerves, clicking open his phone to distract himself. There wasn’t anyone for him to message, not really. Byakuya was always busy on the weekends, always working, and he was fairly sure he’d elicit no response from Kyouko.

He wasn’t really in the mood to talk, but he didn’t want to sit in silence either. The rest of the afternoon rolls by slowly, his eyes settling on the two figures in the field as he crosses his legs on the bench. He liked spending time here with them, but when it comes time to return home, he finds himself more relieved than anything.

It was a small seed of worry, gently nipping away at his sense of assurance. Though, as he comes to linger in the doorway of his home, watching Sakura drive away down the street to go to her own house, he doesn’t feel any better just because he’s at home. He hated being anxious, especially when he felt it was out of his control.  His stomach made queasy from all the worrying, protests when he stretches upwards, stiff from sitting for so long.

He didn’t want to let this dread settle in, but he wasn’t sure how to fend it off either. It was only late afternoon, there’s plenty of time left in the day. He’d had an idea: He could just go over to Kyouko’s himself, it was that easy. It was a trip he’d made plenty of times, although he wasn’t particularly thrilled about using his bike to get there. It’d be faster, at least.

He shuts the front door, opting to stay outside. He’d grab the bike from the garage and go now before it got any darker.

He’d just go and talk to her, say hello and apologize for not accompanying her when she’d left. She’d tell him why she hasn’t been answering and he’d understand. Maybe, if she wasn’t busy, he could stay over. They could hang out like they probably should have on the night of the party. He regrets going now, but it’d all be alright when Kyouko appeared on her doorstep to assure him it was all fine. He doesn’t let himself overthink it, it’d be fine. There was no other way for this to happen, they were both fine.

…Right?

The short distance to her house allows him time to clear his mind, and by the time he’s pulled in front of her driveway he’s convinced himself that the scenario will go down exactly as he’d envisioned it. Still, there’s that little bud stirring in his gut, tainting his thoughts with a hint of despair. He shakes it off, taking the steps up her porch two at a time.

Kyouko was fine.

He jams his finger into the doorbell’s button, rocking on his heels impatiently and anxiously as he awaits a response. He begins to think that maybe no one’s home, but then the lock clicks and the door swings open.

It’s not Kyouko, and Makoto can feel his stomach drop and his throat tighten as he looks up into the face of Jin Kirigiri, her father, and his headmaster. He braces himself, clearing his throat before he speaks.

“Hello, uhm- Is Kyouko here?”

He clasps his hands loosely in front of himself. He’s unusually nervous, and he really hopes that the headmaster doesn’t pick up on it and become suspicious of him. He had good relations with the headmaster. He was his daughter’s best friend and a great student, but he was still a teenager. Jin Kirigiri had spent enough time around teens to know when something was up, but his answer isn’t filled with suspicion, his voice is grave.

“I was hoping you could answer that,” He shakes his head and opens the door the rest of the way to face Makoto fully, “I haven’t seen her since the two of you went out.”

He seems distressed behind his façade. Distressed enough to not put any blame on the boy who’d gone with her when she’d left. Jin Kirigiri trusted Makoto, he’d known the boy since he was in elementary grade. He had no reason to suspect him, but the lack of accusation still leaves Makoto feeling a lot more frightened than he would’ve been if he’d been yelled at. The eerie silence that settles over them finally gives the bubble of dread in his heart license to burst.

“W-We were with some friends until late last night,” He despises the lie as soon as it rolls off his tongue. If Kyouko wasn’t here, and if she hadn’t been here yesterday, that meant she’d been missing since she left the party. Kirigiri deserves to know, but Makoto can’t force the words out of his mouth. What he wishes was the truth rolls out as a fabrication of what had really happened.

“She was going to leave and I-“ He cuts himself off, not sure what to say next. He’d been stupid drunk, that’s what had happened, but how was he supposed to change that in the web he was weaving? Jin doesn’t seem to need any further explanation, he nods once, solemnly, and his throat shifts as he swallows. This entire situation felt _wrong._ He wasn’t supposed to be talking to his equally nervous teacher, it should be Kyouko herself.

In all reality, he shouldn’t even be here. He should be at home, relaxing like he always did on Sundays after spending time with Aoi. He wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t panicking, and he wouldn’t be panicking if he’d just skipped the party. If he’d just, for once, said no to something that wasn’t such a good idea. If he’d just allowed Kyouko to be the judge of this one, she’d be here.

“I think I’ll go and make some calls,” Kirigiri blinks slowly at him, his hand edging around the door to prepare to shut it, “Kyouko’s always been an investigative girl, prone to wandering, so let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” It sounds more like he’s talking to himself than Makoto, trying to settle the same dread that the boy had been feeling for the past two days.

It was acute now, a rolling sensation in his gut that made him feel nauseous. Makoto shifts his weight, nodding to his headmaster.

“Thank you for stopping by, Makoto,” He closes the door slowly with a grim nod in farewell. Makoto doesn’t make to leave for a good minute, standing frozen as the apprehension begins to ravage his mind. He’s never one to be pessimistic, but now he can’t seem to find that silver lining. Just what reason was there that Kyouko might be missing?

Yes, she was a girl who did what she saw fit without worrying about what other’s thought, but it's been twenty-four hours now. Much too long for it to be a purposeful mishap.

He feels sick as he staggers down the stairs. He tries to swallow the lump that’s built up in his throat, but it seems impossible now. His phone feels extraordinarily heavy in his pocket, and he slowly reaches to take it out, standing at the end of Kyouko’s drive. He clicks on Aoi’s name, hoping a second opinion will help him shed light on the positive of the situation. Aoi always seemed to have a plan, and now he needs one more than ever. He can’t find it in himself to divulge a good enough reason for Kyouko to be gone so long, but maybe, with help, he can.

**Makoto: Kyouko’s dad says he hasn’t seen her.**

**Aoi: OMG**

**Aoi: Has anyone seen her? Where do you think she is?**

Makoto’s fairly sure no one else has seen her. If she was just walking around town he would’ve heard from someone by now. He might not talk to his other classmates as often as Aoi or Kyouko, but they were high schoolers. It was instinct to tell everyone when something strange was going on, and Kyouko wandering around for an entire day would be… quite out of the ordinary.

**Makoto: No, I don’t think so. I’m not sure myself…**

He slips his phone into his pocket, deciding that he can’t do anything more here. It was best for him to get home now that the sun was setting. He takes a deep breath before setting off. His mind races faster than he can keep up with it. When he thinks he’s getting a handle on one of his thoughts, all the others begin to slip through his fingers. Nothing like this had happened before. He lived such an ordinary, peaceful life, but now it feels like his life is in a box, getting shaken up by whatever powers were above.

He leaves his bike at the end of his driveway, scrambling up the steps to get inside. He’s apprehensive about being alone after dark anyway, but now that feeling was increased tenfold. Why did things like this always have to happen at night? He flattens his back to the front door, closing his eyes tightly. He imagines that when he opens them, Kyouko will be standing in front of him. But no- She wasn’t here and she wasn’t there either. Was she anywhere?

Makoto nearly groans, his stomach churning at the worry he’s so unaccustomed to. If he had more experience with situations like this he might not be so upset, but his life was completely normal. Nothing ever happened to him that wasn’t neutral in the best sense of the word. He realizes now, closing his hand around his phone, that he’d much rather go back to when it _was_ boring. If this was exciting, he was perfectly happy being ordinary.

His messages are like they’ve been for the past couple days, empty. Kyouko’s name in the messenger is nearing the bottom of the list. He clicks the phone off immediately, trying to banish the negative thoughts from his mind. He tries to still his breathing, returning it to a perfectly normal pace. It was fine, she’d show up. He impulsively opens the phone again, clicking on Byakuya’s name before he has time to think about the girl’s, down near the end of the list.

**Makoto: I went to Kyouko’s.**

He steps forward, his sneakers protesting as they’re drug against the hard, smooth flooring. His trek up the stairs, heading straight for his room, feels more like miles than feet. It’s like a journey before he swings open his bedroom door, closing it roughly behind him. His bed feels like a safe haven after the events of the day, but it still can’t fend off how he feels on the inside. His phone buzzes against his skin.

**Byakuya: And?**

He can’t tell if he wants to know what happened or if he just doesn’t care that Makoto had gone, but he relays his interaction with Jin Kirigiri anyway, typing slowly and deliberately. Focusing on texting was better than focusing on- well, anything else.

**Makoto: Jin doesn’t know where she is either.**

**Byakuya: She still hasn’t shown up?**

Makoto is about to answer, feeling a bit more frantic as he delves back into the fact that Kyouko hadn’t actually gone home that night, but Byakuya hits send first, his next message appearing on the screen before Makoto can finish what he’s going to say.

**Byakuya: Well, she’ll show up eventually. She always does.**

He’d just finished deleting his former sentiment when he reads the new text, and he frowns. Kyouko was known to drop off the radar every now and then, but she always showed up the next day like nothing had happened. It’s been a full day, and Makoto is worried that maybe this time Kyouko won’t reappear. Still, he tries to take Byakuya’s words with an open mind. He was smart, and Makoto lets that fact convince him that he was probably right. She would come back, and just like always, if he asked where she was, she’d pretend she didn’t know what he was talking about.

**Makoto: I hope so.**

He lets the worry, tightly coiled around his heart, relax the slightest bit. He takes a calming breath, his chest lifting and falling as he tries to let himself think clearly. They could ask around, he thinks, speak with others who were at the party and saw her leave. There had to be someone who knew which way she’d gone, or at least if she’d said something to anyone besides Makoto before she’d left. It would work even better if more than one of them worked on it! He glances at his message screen before beginning his text.

**Makoto: We should see if anyone who was at that party knows anything.**

**Makoto: We can meet up together and make a list!**

He feels his optimism make a reappearance, and he sighs in relief at the feeling of his chest opening up to finally let in normal breaths of air. He feels like he’s been tense all day, but it was for good reason. They’d figure this out, and she’d come back just fine. Byakuya had helped him realize that. He plans on waiting for a text back, to see what the other boy thinks of that idea, but the stress leaft him weary. He falls asleep fully dressed, with his phone clenched in his hand.


	5. Chapter 5

Makoto stands on a familiar doorstep, his hand coming up to click the doorbell. Aoi stands behind him, having tagged along. He’d told her his plan as well, and she’d been more than happy to help out. She’s definitely a people person and the type of girl who likes to get things done. Makoto is grateful for her help, but the front doors swing open to reveal that Byakuya feels otherwise. He’s unreadable, as usual, but he doesn’t try to conceal the disdain pointed at the two figures waiting for him.

“I see you brought a plus one.”

He lets his crossed arms fall to his sides, moving back a step so Makoto and Aoi can come in. He doesn’t sound happy about it, but Makoto feels wholly unbothered. Aoi would be a great help, regardless of Byakuya’s attitude about it.

“She’s gonna help us get in touch with people,” The door closes behind them quietly, and Makoto turns to face the other boy as Aoi glances around the foyer, “She’s got almost everyone’s phone number.” Aoi really did have a barrage of contacts in her phone. She was like Makoto in the sense that she liked to make friends, but unlike him in the fact that she loved to keep up with them all on social media. Makoto wasn’t a social media kind of person, but he tried to keep up with as many people as possible.

“Besides,” He starts, “I didn’t think you’d want to text random people about Kyouko.”

Byakuya scoffs, beginning down the familiar hall that leads to the dining room, “Certainly not.”

Makoto had known before even coming over that if Aoi hadn’t come along he’d be the one asking all the questions. Byakuya obviously wouldn’t have been comfortable with contacting the students he felt so adversely towards. But that didn’t matter, Aoi was here, and Byakuya should be more thankful for her.

The kitchen looks no different from the day of the first party, but Byakuya doesn’t stop at the counter where he’d been that time. He pulls out the chair at the head of the long dining table and takes a seat, gesturing for Makoto and Aoi, who’s curiously peeking around the room, to do the same. Looking more closely at the other boy’s face, it’s plain to see that he’s not at his full attention. It’s not like the usual disinterest, but more like he’s tired. Makoto considers asking him what’s wrong, but he decides against it. All that would do is make him more defensive. Even more so because Aoi was here.

Speaking of the girl, she’s sitting up tall, leaning on the table with her elbows to get as close in as she can. Her eyes look determined, her face squished in thought.

“I asked Sakura if she remembered anything, she said no.”

She nods matter-of-factly, resting her chin in her hand. Makoto glances between the others, listening intently.

“I think Leon was there, right?” Makoto recalls the redhead and nods in confirmation, “-And Mondo too?”

It was hard to remember everyone that had been there since it wasn’t just their class that night. He’d also been intoxicated, nothing had been perfectly clear that night. However, He can definitely recollect the memory of several of his louder classmates, the mentioned being two of them, standing in the main room, gathered around the cooler. Makoto is about to suggest they start with one of the two, clicking the button to open his phone, but he’s interrupted-

“I’ve already spoken to Leon.”

Aoi and Makoto turn their heads to the boy at the head of the table so quickly that pain erupts momentarily in the crook of his neck. His jaw slackens in surprise. It would make sense if he’d talked to a student like Sayaka Maizono or Celes, but _Leon?_ Makoto tries to ask just how he’d done that, and more specifically, why, but Aoi beats him to it.

“ _You_ talked to _him_? What’d he say?!”

She leans in even further, staring down the boy in question pointedly. His face is tense like it pains him to even admit it, but he answers in a cool fashion, pushing his glasses up with a finger. He’d made that motion into a habit now, his glasses hadn’t even been skewed.

“He said,” Byakuya clears his throat, “He was, ‘too wasted’ to remember.” He cringes ever-so-slightly, like even thinking those words brought him physical agony. It almost makes Makoto chuckle, but he doesn’t want to irritate the other, not when he seems to have already found some information. Angering him would most likely cause him to clam up, it was always this way when anyone other than Makoto was in the room. He wonders why Byakuya has to be so defensive of himself. No one thought that badly of him, so what impression was there to make?

“I figured I should get a headstart.” He says simply, crossing his arms and leaning back against the rigid edge of the dining chair.

Well, Leon’s testimony hadn’t been very helpful, and it seems now like most of the students will have something similar to say as well. They’d almost all been drinking. Kyouko, Byakuya, and Sakura were special exceptions, and Makoto finds himself wishing he fell into that category too. If he hadn’t of had too much to drink, he probably could’ve gone home with Kyouko. He takes a breath quietly, trying to calm himself before he gets upset over it again. It’d be fine.

His moment of silent recollection doesn’t phase Aoi, who’s whipping through her phone contacts and listing off people she can remember, but Byakuya is scowling at him. Though, there isn’t any true menace in the look. It’s more like he’s thinking, but what about exactly, Makoto doesn’t know. Could he tell that he was feeling off?

Aoi starts from the top, interrupting their shared glance, she turns her phone towards them, showing them the moderate list she’d compiled. Makoto murmurs thanks, blushing a bit from the embarrassment of not having helped when she’d been looking.

It takes them a while, and slowly but surely, they begin to get the word out to everyone. Byakuya is more interested than Makoto would’ve thought, and he’s glad. He feels like they’re being proactive, even if nothing was wrong. This felt like a large scale message report, but it was only a couple texts to the other students that’d attended the party. They were just asking students who knew Kyouko if they’d seen her.

Unfortunately, but expectedly, most of the kids from their class tell them that they can’t remember half of what happened that night, but that they wish them luck on their endeavors. Makoto wants to get exasperated, but he’s in the same boat. He’s no room to be a hypocrite.

“It’s like no one even wants to help!”

Aoi, on the other hand, has no problem getting angry. She’s scowling even deeper than Byakuya at this point, and she drops her phone on the table to make a point out of her statement. She throws her hands up in the air before bringing them down to smooth out her brown hair. Byakuya’s resting his chin in his palm, the interest he’d had before almost completely gone. His eyes flicker to meet Makoto’s and then they light up with realization.

“Hagakure.”

“…What?”

Aoi is staring at him, her fury replaced with confusion. Makoto isn’t sure what Byakuya means, but he sits up, encouraging him to go on.

“That… drop-out,” He sounds like he’s straining to put it nicely, but before he can finish, Aoi is back to being irritated. “Wasn’t he drunk too?” Byakuya shakes his head adamantly, his confident posture beginning to excite Makoto more than it should. “No, I specifically remember. He stayed sober for a surprising amount of time. He was ‘entertaining’.” The look in his bright blue eyes is proud, and he’s suddenly reanimated as he presses his palms flat to the table in a gesture of confidence.

He was right, though. Hagakure had been doing tricks for a lot of the younger students. It had looked silly when Makoto had been sober, but to a drunk teenager, almost any low tier magic trick looked convincing. Especially when said ‘magician’ had a huge crystal ball rolling around on his back table.

“It’s our best shot, I’ll give him a text.”

Aoi seems to agree with Byakuya, at least. She hunches over her phone in concentration, probably having to dig through her messages to find the number that had invited her, Hagakure’s number. While she’s writing the text, Makoto glances around awkwardly. He’d set this up, but so far he’d been the least helpful. He kneads his fingers together, chewing on his lip in an attempt to have something to do.

When he looks up, he’s a little flustered to see Byakuya staring at him, having finished talking to Aoi about what to say to Hagakure. He looks back down to his hands, watching his fingers as he plays with them absentmindedly. Byakuya clears his throat quietly, just a force of habit, but it makes Makoto look back up at him. He lets himself smile, his gaze drifting between his two friends. And Byakuya smiles back, even though it’s just a prideful twitch of the lips.

“Hey!”

Aoi launches herself back up onto the table, her elbows slamming down as he leans across. She waves her phone around for a moment. Making it impossible for Makoto to even try to read the text she’d received. He sits up further as well, excited by her outburst.

“He said he saw her leaving by foot! I think she was heading home!”

Makoto feels both disappointed and grateful for the information. If she was heading home and hadn’t made it, then something must have happened, but at least they know she'd left by foot out onto the road that led to Hagakure’s. Rather than if she’d caught a ride with someone and had hurried out to catch up with them. Any info was acceptable at this point.

“We should go there,” He says, nodding, “We could see if there are any clues.”

Byakuya huffs beside him, retracting his hands to cross his arms, “If she was still near that road she’d have been found. Jin contacted the authorities, didn’t he?” Makoto feels his heart drop, not knowing what to say in retaliation. It was true that Jin had gone to make phone calls, presumably to the local police, but did that mean anything? Had anyone made a case for it yet? Or gone to see for themselves? There was no way of knowing, not really, and Makoto hates not knowing. He hates the dread that pools in his stomach.

“Well, what do we do then?” He speaks directly to Byakuya. He’d only just managed to control the worry he’d built up the other day, and here it was, back again. It's all come spilling out because of a simple phrase. Byakuya looks to him, scooting his chair back with his legs so he can begin to stand, apparently finished with what they were doing.

“The most intelligent option is to wait. If something has happened to her, it’s best to keep ourselves out of harm’s way. Whatever that harm may be.” He pushes his chair back in, and Aoi follows his actions, forgetting to push her chair in as she follows him back towards the exit. Makoto scrambles to do the same, moving briskly to catch up with them. His mind races as fast as he moves, his shoes squeaking as he slows to walk behind Aoi back into the foyer.

He hadn’t even _considered_ that something might have happened to her. He’d been worried that she was missing, yes, but he’d never analyzed exactly what might have happened. Just thinking about it was scary. There were so many things that could’ve happened to her, and he hadn’t begun to know what true fear was like until Byakuya had spoken those words. The idea that something uncontrollable, something that was out of her hands, might have gotten to her... It was terrifying to think about.

Aoi opens the door, standing awkwardly for a moment before wishing them both goodbye. “We can work more tomorrow,” She chirps, trying to encourage Makoto to relax. It must be pretty obvious that he was becoming increasingly upset. He’d thought that maybe she’d left town for some reason or even gotten lost. But he realizes now how stupid that sounds. Something _had_ to of happened to her, she was too smart for some simple reason to keep her from going home when she wanted.

Aoi’s figure is disappearing down the long, winding drive up to Byakuya’s. Makoto wasn’t looking forward to walking the entire path and then having to go home. He wishes for a moment that Byakuya lived closer, and not on an estate. He was resenting going home at all, really. If he went home, he’d lie in bed like he had the other day and kill himself with worry, imagining the worst case scenario. He had a bad case of overthinking things.

He’s standing in the front door like Aoi had. Byakuya stands behind him, waiting for him to go. But Makoto doesn’t move, he hugs himself with his arms, the tight hold trying to calm him.

“You think she’ll turn up?”

Byakuya is silent, and all that does is make Makoto feel worse. He should say something- _anything!_ Anything would help at this point. All he wants to here is that, while there’s always a chance for disaster, it was more likely for hope to win out. For her to show up and be fine. But Byakuya doesn’t offer that kind of comfort. He turns worriedly, swallowing as he meets the eyes of the other boy, searching for a hint of truth somewhere in his irises.

His own hazel eyes are pleading, and something shifts in the cold look on Byakuya’s face. He brings a hand to run through his blond bangs, pushing the ends of the hair behind his ear so he can see properly. “I don’t know, Makoto.”

That hurt. It almost makes Makoto want to double over. Byakuya wasn’t an, ‘ I don’t know’ kind of person. He always knew, or he always had a reason why he didn’t. He wasn’t unsure of himself, but now he was. Makoto wants to pretend that it’s just bad timing that Byakuya’s first admission of not having the knowledge to answer falls on a day that Kyouko is missing. He knows better. Byakuya knew, he just wasn’t going to say. He was shielding the other boy from the truth, and even though Makoto wants to hide from it, he knows he can’t. There was still the chance that nothing was wrong, but now it seemed slim.

“I don’t want...” He trails off, closing his eyes and turning back around to face the drive, “I don’t want to go home.”

It’s not a plea. It’s just a fact. He’s saying it out loud to no one. But Byakuya still responds.

“Where are you going, then?”

He sounds a bit sarcastic like he expects Makoto to say something stupid, but he says nothing more. He’s standing there pathetically, with his arms wrapped around himself like a child. Byakuya has his shoulder suddenly, his grip tighter than it needs to be. Makoto is about to speak, to justify himself in why he was acting so pathetically, but that doesn’t seem to be the issue.

“Just,” His voice is taut, almost like he’s flustered, “Come back in here.”

The door closes too hard and the frame shakes a bit. The slam startles him, and he tenses under the rough grip on his arm. Was Byakuya telling him to stay? It seemed obvious, now that Aoi was gone. He’s not opposed to it, but it is kind of sudden, and also unexpected.  Byakuya wasn’t a comforting kind of person, but Makoto can’t bring himself to analyze any further. He was being offered a chance to keep his mind off of the days events, and he was going to take it.


	6. Chapter 6

Having people over just wasn’t something Byakuya did, like, ever.

Makoto had been really surprised when the other boy had drug him back into the foyer and shut the door, effectively keeping him from deciding to leave. He’d never even considered spending the night at the other boy’s, even though he’d come over a few times before. While they were what Makoto called good friends, staying over seemed farfetched when it came to Byakuya.

It was already late, and it does feel nice to have something to focus on other than their predicament with Kyouko. The worry was eating him alive. He was just too unaccustomed to it, and Byakuya had only strengthened his rampant fear when he’d pointed out the obvious. Something _had_ happened, it wasn’t just a silly accident that would remedy itself. It wasn’t Byakuya's fault, he was just being realistic, true to his character. Still, Makoto wants to pretend that Byakuya is the kind of person who’d lie to make him feel better. He's not.

Byakuya had started towards the flight of stairs in the center of the foyer as soon as he’d slammed the door, leaving Makoto to hurry after him. The upstairs is adorned with carpeted hallways, extending to the left and to the right. Byakuya takes to the right without missing a beat, it was _his_ house after all. Makoto is a bit too curious, he finds himself wanting to peek inside all the closed, white doors. Just what was behind them all? He’s left to wonder as they reach the end of the hall, the final door being swung open to reveal what’s inside.

Byakuya’s room is exactly like one would expect. Impeccably spotless and simple. His bedroom furniture is white, a color that would become endlessly stained if Makoto was the one to own it. It seems too plain, at first, but it’s obvious that the selection of décor wasn’t cheap just because it wasn’t overdone. It was probably more expensive than he could fathom. The thought doesn’t make him as uncomfortable as it does the others. In all his days spent with Byakuya, he’d never felt intimidated by his wealth.

The room is low-lit by a lamp on the nightstand, and it gives the room even more of richly feel. It was definitely a room to match the other's personality, at least it was in Makoto’s eyes. Byakuya seemed outwardly expressionless and antagonistic, but there were a lot of things about him that people overlooked. His room hides little, meaningful things just like his personality does. Example being the small collection of trinkets sitting on his dresser that Makoto had given him near Christmas a few years ago. They’d barely been friends at that point, but he’d still accepted it, and he obviously hadn’t cast the little things aside. He was more considerate than he got credit for.

“Why’d you ask me to stay?”

Makoto glances around the room before settling his gaze on the other, who’s taken off his shoes and placed them neatly near his closet door. He pushes his glasses up, directing his sight to the one who’d addressed him.

“I didn’t.”

Well- He’d actually been forceful about it, he’d drug the other by his arm and closed the door before he could protest. But Makoto is fairly certain that if he’d tried to go, Byakuya would’ve let him. Though unspoken, this had been a mutual decision. A surprising, unexpected decision, but one they’d made, no less.

“Well, thanks anyways.” He awkwardly toes at the pure carpet, not sure what to do in the other’s bedroom so late in the day, “I’ll feel better here tonight.” He’d have stayed up all night thinking about Kyouko otherwise, and though he probably still won’t rest easy, at least he had someone to talk to. Byakuya is sitting on the edge of his bed, his back straight. He turns sharply to shoot a glare in Makoto's direction. 

“Don’t stand there like an idiot.”

Makoto starts a bit at the biting comment, coming forward to stand next to the bed on Byakuya’s side. The boy looks up at him, his glasses shifting when his scowl drops. They’re equally on edge. Makoto was normally so easygoing, but he didn’t want to make a fool out of himself. Not here.

“Your bedroom is nice,” He tries to break the ice, “It looks like I would have expected.”

The edges of Byakuya’s lips upturn into a smirk, a look of pride. Of course, he’d be proud. Makoto was the king of stroking Byakuya’s ego without even knowing he was doing it. He just felt like he was being nice, after all. The older boy hadn’t felt like he was stepping down a peg by being friends with Makoto, no. He’d just brought Makoto up a peg. Now, instead of looking down on all his classmates, he felt that Makoto sat on the throne of pride with him.

Except, Makoto didn’t see it that way. Byakuya was a normal guy just like he was. For being so different, things worked fairly well between them.

Makoto sits down on the edge of the bed, hoping that the action isn’t awkward or forced. He just wants to get off his feet. If he was staying here, at this time, was he sleeping here? Where would he sleep? He doesn’t know if Byakuya even planned on him staying over the night at all, let alone if he was the kind of guy who was cool with people sleeping on the floor in his room. He had been pulled back inside after saying how much he didn’t want to go home, so it’d make sense if he stayed the night. Why would he invite him to stay, only to send him home in the middle of the night?

If he was sleeping here, he shifts gently on the bed, _was_ he sleeping on the floor?

He wouldn’t… sleep in the bed, would he?

No, that was a crazy thought. Byakuya would never.

He flushes light pink, looking out of the corner of his eye to see Byakuya, who’s hunched over slightly to read whatever message he’s got on his phone. He doesn’t see Makoto staring, nor does he seem to plan on talking about arrangements anytime soon. Still, it’s comfortable to be somewhere new. There’s plenty of things to think about, but he's still forced to think about Kyouko by his worrying brain. He visibly deflates, and that seems to be enough to grab the other’s attention.

“There’s things in the closet you can use.”

He doesn’t put his phone down, but he jerks his head in the direction of his closet. Makoto stands and almost stumbles on the carpet with his sneakers. He kicks them off gently, nudging them to the side of the door they came in so he can get them later. The closet is arranged long ways rather than being wide, and there are more clothes in his closet than the whole of Makoto’s room at home. He almost makes a comment but decides against it.

The shelves that clothes are hanging from have a small, folded stack of blankets on top. Makoto had figured that bedding was what he’d been referring to, but he’s sure now that he can sleep on the floor. Though he’s not sure why he thought of sharing the bed had him so flustered before.

The blankets have a scent that Makoto can’t place as he unfolds them and walks back into the room, closing the closet door. They smell clean, but there’s a special scent to them. He can’t quite place it, but he supposes it just smells like… Well, like Byakuya does. Clean and sharp. Like new clothes and glasses cleaner. It’s pleasant, but it makes him feel strange. It makes him feel a bit... antsy? Like there were butterflies in his stomach. 

He tosses the bundle down on the floor next to the bed, plopping down to sit on top of it. Byakuya’s finally put his phone down, and he’s sitting further onto his bed. From the ground, Makoto can see the back of his head. He relaxes, laying his own head down on the floor to try and rest. He denies himself the right to look at his own phone. He doesn’t want to see the empty messages from Kyouko. It’ll only make it harder to sleep.

“Good night.”

He calls out, shifting to lay on his side, closing his eyes. Byakuya makes a sound of acknowledgment, his own way of replying. The lamp light clicks off suddenly, and submerged in darkness, he finds it hard to drift off. The other boy has probably well fallen asleep before Makoto even manages to close his eyes.

 

* * *

 

_Makoto is standing in complete darkness. He can’t see anything, but when he turns his head a streak of color catches his eye. The shape is human, he can see something familiar in the figure. He squints and starts walking closer, feeling ahead of him. He has no idea what lies in front of him, but the figure-_

_It’s Kyouko!_

_He moves faster, lunging forward to grab her by the back of the shoulders. She doesn’t react at first, but when he spins her around, her face distorts into agony. He’s never seen that face on her before, and he releases her in surprise. She falls back, her face suddenly splattered with dark, red liquid._

_Blood._

_“Makoto, why didn’t you,” She gasps out, “Why didn’t you help me?”_

_He gapes at her, his eyes widening. No- No!_

_And-!_

Makoto sits up so fast his head spins and he has to hold it in his hands to stop the rush of pain. His chest is moving sporadically. He can barely catch his breath. The dream had been so terrifying, so sudden. He barely had dreams under normal circumstances, but tonight, that had been terrible. He clutches his chest, lifting his head up to look around. It’s still completely dark, but he can make out the shapes of furniture in the shadows. His surroundings come back to him as he remembers where he is.

It- This had been his own fault…

If he’d just gone with her that night… She’d be here. If he hadn’t pressured her with Aoi to go to the party at all... This _was_ his fault, wasn’t it? They told her it would be such fun. Now she was gone.

His breathing gets harder, and now he finds himself fighting off real tears. He barely cried at nightmares, he barely cried regardless. He wasn’t the type who had something to be sad about often, but he was terrified. The foreign feeling of sobbing makes his chest feel like his ribs are going to push out of his skin. He puts his hands over his mouth to muffle it, but it seems he’s too late to hush up.

“What in god’s name are you doing down there?”

The sound of the mattress creaking lets him know that he’s woken up Byakuya. How late was it? How long had he been asleep? He sniffs, rubbing his nose and looking up at the edge of the bed. He can’t see Byakuya, but he knows he’s sitting up now. He sounds tired and irritated, so it must be late.

He clears his throat, “Nothing. Bad dream.” He’d tried to sound calm, like he’d seriously just woken up from a typical nightmare, but his voice cracks hard in the middle. That won’t slip past unnoticed.

“Are you crying, Makoto?”

He still sounds irritated, but less so. The mattress shifts again, and he swallows thickly to try and control himself. He could just shut up and lay back down, but he _has_ to answer now that he's been found out. He'd already woken the other boy up. 

“N-no! I’m fine.” 

Damn it! He'd spit that out too quickly, too hurriedly. Now he’s really in trouble. He figures Byakuya is going to get angry with him for waking him up. Especially over something as dumb as a dream.

He hears the other scoff indignantly, shifting so he can look down at the sniffling boy. Makoto can see the side of his head, his glasses are all the way to the end of his nose, and he’s staring forward blearily. His eyes narrow through the lowered lenses of his glasses.

“Come here.”

Makoto frowns as confusion pools in his already fuzzy mind. What had he meant by that?

“W-What?”

He sniffs again, rubbing his red eyes and shifting to sit on his knees to see Byakuya better. The other boy scoffs again, rolling his eyes, barely visible in the dark.

“Come up here.”

Byakuya lays back down with a thud, the covers puffing up around him as he exasperatedly huffs. He’d just laid back down like he didn’t really say anything, he’s just waiting for the other boy to respond to his order, to get up from the floor. Makoto does as he's told, but slowly, warily. He hadn’t expected that. Some type of comfort isn’t what he’d figured he'd get from Byakuya, but he finds himself wanting to accept it.

The covers are a lot softer than his own, foreign beneath his fingertips. He pushes the blankets out of the way, laying down gently. He feels the bed dipping with his weight. It feels strange to lie like this, less than a foot away from Byakuya, who hasn’t shifted since Makoto had gotten into the bed. He relaxes his head onto the cool pillows and looks at the back of Byakuya’s head. His blond strands look like they’d be soft to the touch, but Makoto scorns himself for thinking that way.

“B-Byakuya? What-“

“I’m not going to lay here and listen to you cry all night. Let me sleep.”

He sounds annoyed, but Makoto knows if he was truly angry he wouldn’t have called him up on the bed with him. He feels a lot better now, Byakuya had been offering comfort in the only way he knows how. It feels good to know that.

It’d be okay, he takes a deep breath to console himself.

They could do more work in the morning. They’d find more for Kyouko.

They had to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's left Kudos and comments! it means a lot to me :D


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all the nice comments! Sorry for gaps in between posts, I'm cleaning up my home for a birthday party!

Makoto awakens feeling comfortable and warm, his hands are tucked in close to his chest, and his cheek is flush with the pillow below him. He shifts a little, lifting and moving his hips. The sheets feel strange on his skin, a softness he doesn’t recognize. He doesn’t bother trying to sit up, but when he goes to roll over to the edge of the bed, he realizes his movements are restricted. Prying open his tired eyes, a look of confusion crosses his face. Suddenly, he becomes aware of a weight against his torso.

His hand moves to the weight. He’s not sure what he expects, but it’s definitely not what he finds. It’s an arm, a steady, lean one. It’s obvious who it’s owner is, but why it’s wrapped around Makoto’s waist is beyond him. He squeezes the skin gently, his confusion only greatening. He follows the arm to its elbow and then removes his hand, pushing himself upwards rather than sideways. He manages to sit up a bit and turn his full attention to the other boy. Byakuya is still asleep, but he’s certainly moved a lot closer than where he’d fallen asleep last night. He’s also rolled over to face Makoto, but it seems unintentional.

It _has_ to be unintentional.

He nods to himself, trying to decide whether he should move away or not. Byakuya might get irritated with him if he wakes him up like this, but Makoto is still tired and doesn’t want to get up in someone else’s house while they’re asleep. He bends his knees to move further upwards, hoping to sit up against the headboard, but his knees make contact with another object.

He presses his knees forwards anyways, but he’s too late to realize what exactly the object is. Byakuya shifts, groaning quietly in his sleep as his legs are pushed back by the force of Makoto’s knees. He doesn’t do anything more than make noise, and Makoto holds his breath, the suspense too much for him. The sleeping boy goes right back into his peaceful state, and Makoto breathes out in relief, continuing to try and get free. If he can just sit up, then the arm will fall off of him and it’ll be fine. He readjusts his legs to push straight up, steering clear of Byakuya’s legs. He feels his back hit the headboard and the grip around his waist loosening. When he looks down at the pillows he’s now sitting on, he sees Byakuya’s head, which had previously been positioned just above his own while they’d slept.

He looks peaceful when he sleeps, it’s a first for Makoto to see. Byakuya's face always looks a bit mean, even when he's resting, but right now he’s completely relaxed. It’s a nice face to look at, however, Makoto feels a bit flustered staring at him like this. Though he's wrapped up in the other's gentle features, his thoughts change course when he feels the arm finally slip off of him. Byakuya pulls his arm back into his own chest and makes a noise in his sleep. His face contorts for a moment before he relaxes again.

Makoto spends more time than he should be observing the sleeping boy, but it’s a rare occasion. He allows himself the moment.

After a few minutes he begins to get restless, and though he’s still a bit tired and it’s warm and comfortable, he scoots to the edge of the bed and stands slowly. He picks up the blankets he’d left on the floor, suddenly reminded of the dream he’d had last night. He hadn’t wanted to remember, but he supposes there’s no way around it. His throat tightens as his mood plummets, but he still manages to clumsily fold the sheets and place them on the edge of the dresser.

His torso still feels warm from the other’s arm, and he still feels tired from how deeply he'd slept, but all he can do is trace the spot where Byakuya had touched with his index finger. He’s about to grab his shoes, ready to face the day and wait for the other to wake when a voice comes from behind him.

“What are you doing?”

He seems none the wiser that they’d been so close last night, so Makoto tries to pretend it hadn’t happened, forcing the color off his cheeks.

“Getting my stuff,” He looks over to see Byakuya sitting up, staring at him through clouded eyes, “Thanks for letting me stay over.”

Byakuya rolls his eyes at the thank-you, running long fingers through his hair as he arches his back in a stretch. He swings his legs over his side of the bed, his back to the other boy. Makoto finishes tying his shoes as Byakuya stands and fixes his bed sheets.

“What sort of ‘bad dream’ did you have?”

His tone is a bit sharp, but there’s interest behind the disguise of attitude in his words. He wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t care to know, which makes Makoto feel obligated to tell him, despite how haunting it is to recall it.

“It was…” He hesitates, and Byakuya finishes for him before he can get it out.

“Kyouko. Wasn’t it?”

Sometimes it was startling how transparent he was. Or maybe Byakuya just knew him that well. He’s apprehensive of speaking any further, but his thoughts get the best of him.

“Yes,” He swallows the lump building in his throat, “I’ve been thinking…”

He scratches the back of his neck and turns to fully face the other boy, standing in front of the door that leads to the hall.

“If I had just gone with her, instead of getting drunk like an idiot…”

He’s going to say more, to expose his guilt even further and increase it tenfold, but Byakuya cuts him off, his face hardening into a scowl.

“You can hardly change what’s already happened.”

Makoto opens his mouth to refute the idea, to press the notion that it _is_ his fault, but Byakuya raises a hand to stop him, telling him to close his mouth.

“All you would’ve done by accompanying her is endangered the _both_ of you.”

He’s right. Whatever it was that had happened to her, like he’d said yesterday, could have happened to both of them if he’d gone with her. As much as he doesn’t like the idea of being the one missing, it’d be better than this hollow feeling of _not knowing_ where his best friend was. It was eating away at him like a corrosive. Byakuya’s scowl drops as he turns and heads out into the hall, stopping at the door adjacent to his bedroom.

“Do you think there are police on the case? Do you think they’ve found anything?”

Makoto calls out to Byakuya, following him to the door until he’s standing next to him again. His hand stills on the doorknob, waiting to give Makoto an answer.

“Maybe, but it’s unlikely the authorities have found anything. It’s only been a few days.”

“It’s been almost _four_ days, aren’t you worried?”

Byakuya turns his head to look over his shoulder at Makoto, his eyes steely.

“I suppose it’s quite the puzzle that she’s just disappeared. We should be grateful it was just her,” He turns the knob slowly, straightening as he makes to walk into his bathroom, “It could’ve been you just as easily.”

With that, he slips into the room and shuts the door, leaving Makoto alone and baffled.

His insides feel tangled up at that. It was selfish of him to say that, that he was glad it was her instead of him, but it was also kind of endearing in that strange sort of way that Byakuya said things. He was glad that Makoto was here, safe, which was a sweet way of thinking about it, but it was also scary. It was scary because he was right. It really _could’ve_ been him, and _he_ hadn’t even been sober. Kyouko was smarter and stronger than he was and also sober, but something had _still_ happened to her.

He turns away from the bathroom door, heading down the long hallway back to the stairs. He stares down the flight, his eyes tracing the edge of the carpet where it turns into dark hardwood. His hand clenches the railing as he starts down. He owed a lot to the boy who lived here. If he hadn’t brought Makoto home that night he surely would’ve ended up much worse off than just a hangover. He was stupid that night, and these were the consequences.

He stands in the foyer for a moment before Byakuya comes down the stairs as well. He looks cleaned up now, the sleep clear from his eyes. Makoto hadn’t brought anything for the morning, and he was going to have to go home in _Byakuya's_  extra clothing. He hadn’t planned this at all. Hell, he’d never even told his parents. As long as he showed up eventually, they never questioned him. He was a good kid, and they lived in a relatively small town. There wasn’t any crime here. It was safe, barely even a mark on the map. Byakuya is standing next to him, moving towards the front door to open it for him.

Speaking of his town, “Why do you think this happened?” He watches Byakuya’s figure as he settles with his arms crossed on his chest, a relaxed posture, “We’re not some big city."

“Tragedies don’t restrict themselves to capitals, Makoto.”

That word, tragedy, it makes Makoto’s blood run cold. Was this a tragedy? Wouldn’t they find Kyouko and it’d all go back to normal? He can’t fathom any other endings to this scenario without letting that heavy, murderous dread set in.

“I guess I should go,” He sighs and messes his unruly hair, trying to distract himself, “Maybe Aoi got some more responses over the night.”

“Possibly.”

“I’ll see you later,” Makoto hesitates, swallowing thickly before stepping forward. He throws an arm around the other boy’s shoulder, hugging him tightly but chastely. It feels... weirdly nice, his chest seizing up with apprehension to the other boy’s reaction. He feels his stomach twist and his face breaks out red. Byakuya makes a noise of surprise, nearly stumbling away, but he holds his ground under the other’s soft grip. He’s not used to being touched like this, but he returns the hug with an awkward squeeze.

Makoto smiles lopsidedly and turns to go, waving goodbye.


	8. Chapter 8

It’d been two days since he’d left Byakuya’s. Two days, and he hadn’t even left the house.

Once he’d been alone again, he’d sat on his bed staring at his empty messages, unwilling to peel his eyes from Kyouko’s icon. He’d let the dream really start to get to him, and now nightmares haunted him nearly every night, always the same thing. It was all his fault that this had happened. He’d been so worried at first, and it had really hurt to feel that way. What he wouldn’t do to _just_ feel worried again.

Now it’s all mind-numbing guilt. He’d pressured her to go, gotten drunk, and ignored her.

What had he even done while she was alone? Had he been with Hagakure’s crowd? He can’t even begin to recall. He hadn’t been in his right mind and now it seemed like so long ago. So long she’d been missing. He’d heard that police had been on the scene recently, but that doesn’t make him feel any better. He’d also heard that they’d only been out there searching the site for two days before they seemed to stop altogether. Aoi had texted him, she’d heard from Leon, who heard from Hagakure that they were putting it off until further evidence was provided.

Wasn’t that _their_ job? To find things that would point to her whereabouts?

Makoto doesn’t get mad easily, barely ever, but right now the anger boiling under his skin feels almost as bad as all the other emotions swirling in his head. How could they just put it on the back burner like it didn’t even matter? What else could they _possibly_ be doing?

His phone buzzes in his hand. He’s lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He hadn’t bothered to shower, but he had switched into his own night clothes. That night at Byakuya’s definitely made him appreciate well-fitting clothing. The sweatpants he'd taken had been ridiculously too long. 

**Aoi: Do you think they really are still looking? Leon and Hagakure aren’t that trustworthy.**

**Makoto: I don’t know. Why would they make that up?**

**Aoi: Good point.**

His classmates were strange sometimes, but Leon wouldn’t make something like that up. Not about someone who’d been missing for a week. Unless they were playing some kind of twisted trick on him or Jin Kirigiri. 

He doubts it. Kyouko wouldn’t ever ‘prank’ anyone, especially not to this degree. He wishes he could make himself believe that was what was going on. He clicks away from the conversation, selecting another contact.

**Makoto: Hey.**

He hadn’t seen Byakuya in person since the night he’d spent over. Actually, he hadn’t seen anyone. It wasn’t uncommon for them to go days without seeing or speaking to each other. That was just the kind of laid back relationship they had. This week had been a rare occurrence, he’d seen Byakuya nearly every day. First at that stupid party, then briefly on the day after, and then he’d come to Byakuya’s with Aoi. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t wish he was at the other boy’s house _right now_.

**Makoto: They’re not looking anymore.**

He doesn’t know that for sure, he can’t see what the police department is doing right at this very moment, but it might as well be true. The guilt and anger inside him exist regardless of the truth. His mind conjures things up to fuel the petty emotions in his head.

**Byakuya: I heard.**

**Makoto: And I’ve been sitting around all week doing nothing.**

More reasons to be guilty.

There was nothing he _could_ do. He’s falling apart, he thinks, and Byakuya seems to be the only one who understands.

**Byakuya: What do you suppose you should be doing? How, exactly, are you going to locate her?**

Makoto groans, rubbing his temples as he thinks of a way to answer. There’d been a lot of this from Byakuya in the last week. He was trying to, in his own way, convince Makoto that this was definitely not his fault. It was a lot of passive aggressive comments about how he couldn’t find her or how it was better for him to let someone else look. They were words that meant, “Don’t put yourself in trouble.” But they didn’t feel that way to Makoto. He felt like no one cared about this. Like he was the only one who wanted to do something about it. Not even the authorities seemed to be working.

**Makoto: I can’t. I should’ve _just been there_ that night.**

Byakuya apparently doesn’t have an answer to that and Makoto tosses his phone on the bed in frustration. He stands quickly, his vision blurring as the blood rushes from his head.

How could everyone just _give up_ on him? On her?

The best anyone was willing to do was to look around for her? Like this was a prolonged game of hide-and-seek?!

Tears of anger force their way into his eyes, and he rubs vigorously at his face to get them to go away. He wasn’t the one missing, he had no right to cry. What could he do now? His best friend since before he can remember, the girl he’d grown up with. Was she gone now? Leaving behind no trace, no closure for anyone who loved her?

He’d stumbled to the front of his room, tripping over laundry and his school bag. His hand lingers on the doorknob before he decides against it. He opts to slump down with his back to the door instead, staring emptily at the space beneath his bed from across the room. He can’t imagine how Jin Kirigiri feels right now. He was always so kind to Makoto. He was a good student, but now he was the reason his daughter was gone. He can barely contain the stifled sob that escapes him.

Would Jin even come back next year? He was such a good headmaster, always doing the right things for his school. Hope’s Peak wouldn’t be the same without him, without _her_. He brings his knees to his chest, laying his head against them dejectedly. His friend group would fall apart too. Next year, he’d be lucky if he managed to keep Aoi and Byakuya near him if Kyouko wasn’t around.

If he made it to next year, that is. He couldn’t be expected to keep up his old attitude after this, could he? He’d been hit with cold, hard reality after living in a little bubble almost all his life. He was a happy, carefree kind of kid, but the world had decided to try and crush that.

He goes to reclaim his phone from the grip of his sheets, pulling it out of the mess as he stands over his bed. He squints past the dimness of his room and the sheen of unfallen tears in his eyes to get back to his messages.

**Makoto: So what do I do now?**

Byakuya ought to know. He was smart, smarter than Makoto. But it was such an empty, open ended question. He doesn’t expect a serious answer, he expects sarcasm or irritation, but that doesn’t seem to be what he has in mind.

**Byakuya: Stop beating yourself up over this.**

Makoto doesn’t know if that’s an answer or an unrelated order. It’s still unexpected, but after this week he finds himself unmoved at the declaration. Byakuya had been uncharacteristically careful with his words lately. He’d been considerate and gentle while still upholding his sarcasm and pride. Makoto says he doesn’t know why the other acts this way, but he does.

Byakuya was _pitying_ him. And Byakuya doesn’t pity anyone, not ever.

**Makoto: She’s gone. How is this _not_ my responsibility? **

**Byakuya: Because it’s not. Stop trying to make this your fault.**

His words are just text, but he can hear the forceful, stern tone behind it. He was getting fed up with Makoto’s attitude. Blaming himself wouldn’t make Kyouko show back up suddenly.

Makoto tosses his phone back onto his bed, not wanting to aggravate himself with more talk about how it ‘wasn’t his fault’. It didn’t even matter anymore. No matter whose fault this was, the fact that no one was doing anything for her made him feel angrier than he had in years. Byakuya didn’t get that, apparently.

His window isn’t helping the darkness in his room. Even with the curtains pulled back, the gray skies overhead make the room dark. It was going to rain soon, and it was already late afternoon.

He’s got an idea now, one that’s best executed in good weather, in mid-day, but it was too late for that.

Everyone had given up on his best friend, but not him. He was going to go find her _himself._


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for that huge update gap, things have been crazy at home.

 

The rain is coming down now, harder than a drizzle, but not enough to dissuade Makoto from his quest. The quickly wetting asphalt shines beneath his beat-up bike tires as he heads down the street. He’d make it to Hagakure’s road in no time, but he feels he needs to make a stop along the way.

Though Byakuya had told him there was nothing they could do, he’d at least be interested in Makoto’s plan. He was akin to Kyouko herself in the sense that he enjoyed investigating on a good puzzle, and Makoto would be damned if this wasn’t the worst puzzle that he had been involved with in his life. They could go back to the street where the party had been held, where Kyouko had walked away. There had to be something, anything. If the authorities were going to half-ass their search for her, Makoto would make sure that it was compensated for.

He slows to a stop, his eyes fixated on the house looming in the distance. He really _could_ go and get Byakuya right now, he’d come all this way just for that. He doesn’t foresee the boy turning him down, but it’s raining and Hagakure’s was never the safest place. Makoto lets himself find the silver lining again, his face damp with the slowly increasing speed of the rain. He lets his bike rest against the curb as he starts up the winding drive. Byakuya had a car, that was the good thing, and it’d be much more comfortable to look around in.

**Makoto: I’m outside your house.**

If it wasn’t for the reason, Makoto might have laughed at that sentiment. He’d just showed up at Byakuya’s and passively demanded that he meet him outside. It was amusing, in a way, but not with the situation at hand. Makoto feels stone cold, his hoodie becoming more drenched as he walks up the long, long drive to the front door. He doesn’t take the steps, but rather stays at the bottom of the porch, his eyes fixed on the fancy, front door.

It’s swung open much quicker than he’d expected. Byakuya is the one to emerge, thankfully, and he looks down the stairs to Makoto, furrowing his eyebrows in puzzlement.

“What are you doing here at seven o’clock? Uninvited, no less.”

He steps down a few stairs, squinting upwards through his glasses as he looks into the storming sky. He glances back to Makoto briefly before coming to stand in front of him. His arms are crossed, but he doesn’t seem angry. Surprised, if anything.

“No one is doing anything for her anymore,” Makoto’s fists clench in determination, “So I’m going to!”

Byakuya’s face only falls further into confusion. It’s not a confusion that says, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” but rather, one that says, “Why?” His posture remains unchanged, despite the growing sense of desperation in the air around Makoto.

“You’ll help me? Right?”

Suddenly, his face twists from gentle confusion to a sharp look of severity. His eyes narrow in an almost accusatory glare. Makoto’s will goes weak, his throat tightening at the unrelenting stare. He’d expected irritation, maybe even a no. But he didn’t expect downright anger. Byakuya hadn’t been angry with him for so long, he’d thought they were past that.

“Makoto,” His voice is stubbornly serious, “That’s a terrible idea.”

His heart drops into his stomach, and he feels like he may need to double over from the shock. Like a punch to the gut. He hadn’t thought he’d get shot down so easily, Byakuya had been careful over the past week. He’d been mindful that Kyouko meant the world to the other boy, even though he himself wanted nothing to do with her. That consideration really meant something coming from him, but was it all for naught? Was he really dashing Makoto's hopes like this?

He swallows thickly, tugging on the string of his hoodie. Looking up past the dripping lenses of the other boy’s glasses for some hint of softness, for something that told him he would help if he was pushed far enough. The rain obscures his view, splattering their clothes a shade darker. He’s cold now, but it’s not just from the rain.

“W-What...?”

He shivers hard, his arms coming up to hug himself. Byakuya’s face is unchanging, his clothes are just as damp and heavy as Makoto’s, and it only gets worse the longer he stands there.

“Why do you think this is your responsibility? To find her, I mean?”

Makoto’s breath catches in his throat as he considers that question directly. He knew why: It was _his_ fault. Byakuya hadn’t heard that from him yet, he didn’t know the guilt the other was struggling with. Did he know guilt at all?

“Because it’s-,” His voice falters under a surge of thunder, “It’s my fault.”

Byakuya’s expression shifts again. Less anger, and more realization clouding his blue eyes. But Makoto continues, not allowing the other to cut him off like he would have normally.

“If I had just left it alone when she said she didn’t want to go- or if I’d just stayed sober-“

“None of those things somehow make it your fault.”

Makoto chokes on a sob he didn’t know he was holding back. Tears had begun to fall, overwhelmed with guilt and desperation for someone to _do_ something, to _help him._ The tears mix in with the rain streaming down his cheeks, he hadn’t known just how deeply he’d fallen into this until it's forced its way out of his throat. Byakuya just didn’t seem to understand.

“But they do- _It is!_   I’m making it up to her! _We’ll_ bring her back,” He has to cough, his back arching as he leans forward, his eyes fall on the patterned pavement beneath his soaked sneakers.

“Just _help_ me, please.”

He sounds more desperate, more broken than he ever knew he could. He’s fully shaking now, his arms hang limply at his sides, useless. Byakuya’s next words sound like they should be spoken with malice, with a menacing glare, but there’s not a hint of venom in any of his actions.

“You can’t go to look for someone who’s not there.”

Those words sound so… cold. So final.

“H-How could you know that!?”

Byakuya doesn't know. He doesn’t know anything about Kyouko or where she was, he simply trying to make Makoto relax, to give in. He just wanted the other boy to lay around as if his best friend hadn’t been missing for over a week, as if this was all just a silly game he had to wait out.  

“Something would’ve been found-“

“No! They didn’t even try! No one is trying!”

He balls his fists, the emotions he’s so unaccustomed to rise up in a bursting bubble in his chest. He’s about to start shouting again, begging, crying, anything to make Byakuya _do something,_ but the taller snatches Makoto’s wrist before he can begin to gesture again, he’s held in a nearly bruising grip. It makes him hesitate to move or to speak, but he supposes that’s the point.

“Stop. You’re not going out there.”

These words are spoken with a sternness Makoto hadn’t been subjected to before. All it does is make him more determined, more frustrated. If he had to give up on getting help, then so be it. He’d thought maybe, just maybe, the other would help, would show him that he cared, but he guesses he was wrong.

“I _will_ go out there. I’ll do it myself.”

He’s not yelling anymore, his voice is low, a tone he’s never used before. A lot of things were happening for the first time tonight.

“You _won’t.”_

He tries to rip his arm from the other’s grip, but he only tightens it, taking a step forward to stand even closer to Makoto. It feels like he’s trying to intimidate him, but Makoto just feels angry. Angry and heartbroken. He’d needed the only person he could truly trust to help him, and _this_ was his reaction to that trust?

Their faces mirror one another, matching stone-cold glares.

“W-Why do you even care what I do?” It’s a question he never would’ve asked before.

Before, all his friends cared about him equally. Byakuya might _care_ , but he didn’t _get it_. He didn’t get that, to show he cared, he’d have to help. What mattered right now was Kyouko, but no one grasped that. Makoto was alone on this.

Suddenly, he’s yanked even closer, his wrist throbbing. His feet are positioned in between Byakuya’s, he’s so close. All he’d have to do is lean forward to be completely pressed to the other, He can feel the other’s heavy breath, exasperated from arguing. His wet clothing sticks to Makoto’s where his hand is wrapped around his wrist. He’s nearly whispering when he speaks, like what he says is a secret.

“I don’t want something to happen to you, moron.”

Makoto’s chest feels like someone’s stepped on him, pushing the air out of his lungs. He takes a deep breath, shaking from his breakdown. He looks up, meeting Byakuya’s eyes. He looks like how Makoto feels: Like there are so many emotions in his gaze that Makoto’s not sure w _hat_ he’s feeling. He’s not even sure if it’s Byakuya at all. He’s never acted out like this before, not even when he was passionate about something. What had changed in just the last few minutes to make him so… vulnerable?

“W-what do you mean-?”

They were friends, but did that title really warrant what was happening right now? Their closeness, the tone of Byakuya’s voice, the tightness in his chest. Would he feel that if Byakuya called himself his friend?

“If you go out there,” His voice sounds steadier now, like he’d composed himself, “What do you think will happen?”

“Do you honestly think you’ll waltz back here with Kyouko on your arm?” His grip loosens, but Makoto doesn’t move to pull away. He feels like Byakuya is showing him something he shouldn’t be allowed to see. An emotional piece of himself that no one had seen before.

“No,” He continues, giving Makoto no time to stop him, “If something happens to you? If no can find you?”

His breathing is uneven, he's distressed in a way that Makoto didn't know he was capable of feeling. His grip is no longer a grip, it’s just a gentle hold, like he doesn’t want to let go. What was _happening_?

Makoto opens his mouth to speak, but Byakuya isn’t done.

“ _Then_ what? Makoto,” They’re so close that the smaller feels paralyzed, too shocked to move, “What do _I_ do then?”

He finds himself speechless, his mouth and brain feel emptily hollow as he stands, his jaw slackened and his hand held in place by the other boy’s gentle touch. The anger was gone from them both. He dares to steal another glance at Byakuya's face, apprehensive of what he might see. His hazels meet the other's bright blue, and he's shocked into further concern at the plain emotion shimmering through the cerulean. 

He's _scared_. It shows in the way his breathing slows to a shaky, shallow sound, and in the way his blue eyes, usually brimming with confidence, are wide and clouded. Makoto doesn’t think anyone’s ever seen Byakuya _scared_ before. Certainly not when it came to worrying about someone else’s safety. He shouldn’t _be_ scared. This shouldn’t even be happening.

The silence is deafening, save for the rain against the pavement. He musters the courage to answer the other boy’s question, but not in the way that'd been hoped.

“What do you mean by that?”

It was all so confusing, He’d just wanted to go search for Kyouko; that was what mattered. But he’d been turned away. This wasn’t what Makoto had meant to happen. He’d never meant to upset Byakuya, to drag him into the pouring rain this late in the evening for an emotionally fueled screaming match. 

The boy scowls and nearly groans in exasperation. He grips Makoto's wrist tighter again, and his free arm finds its way around his waist. Makoto’s eyes widen as he’s brought flush with the other boy, their soaked clothing sticking together with awkward sounds. He almost opens his mouth to question the strange action, but he's absolutely cut short when a pair of lips is fitted against his own.

Oh.

_Oh._

His free hand, the one not clasped with Byakuya’s, moves to his shoulder, both steadying himself and bringing them closer together. It’s so foreign, to feel the other’s lips against his own. But it’s warm, it’s comforting. It's quick, almost too quick. Just a taut press of mouths before the equally taut Byakuya pulls back. Makoto lets out a shaky breath, his eyes shut tight as he balls up the fabric of Byakuya’s wet jacket in his fist. The taller doesn’t pull his arms back, but he doesn't seem to have any answer to his actions. He doesn't feel like he's obligated to discuss them.  He holds Makoto close, like he’ll fade away if he lets go. They standing in the rain like the biggest cliché, something Byakuya would hate to admit.

Makoto finds himself… deeply comforted.

He’d harbored feelings for the other boy from the beginning. Though they had been subtle, like how he’d always found himself watching the other boy’s movements, or overly appreciating any non-venomous gesture. Byakuya, on the other hand, had been more obvious than he’d thought. He’d stare during classes, and take Makoto to the library, where they’d be alone. To them, it’d been normal, they were just friends, but everyone in their class had suspected something since day one. It’d just taken them this long to catch up with it.

He doesn’t move to pull away, he can’t. It feels right to stand like this, wrapped in the other’s strangely comforting embrace. He’s still shaking, tears still pool in his eyes, but he doesn’t let go.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 chapters as an apology for my break :D

It felt rather indecent, he thought, to kiss like that for the first time and then stay the night, but it had nothing to do with what had happened between them. The older boy refused to let him go for fear he’d disobey and go try to find Kyouko anyways. The argument left Makoto more emotional than when he’d first left his house. Being that upset just made a trip to the woods, in the rain, at night, just that much more dangerous. As if it wasn’t already a death wish in and of itself.

Byakuya felt he’d put too much work into trying to figure out his feelings for Makoto to let him disappear now. Especially when it was preventable. So, Makoto stands in his room for the second time ever. Only this time he’s shivering in a soaked jacket with his drenched hair slick to his forehead. Byakuya is quick to grab him something to dry off with, a clean towel from the linens. He watches the other for a moment before taking his own soaked jacket off his shoulders, hanging it over a bed post to dry out.

“You’re soaked.”

Makoto laughs, his voice a little shaky from earlier. He’s so not over it, but it’ll have to wait until later. He couldn’t go anywhere, not while the weather was like this. He figures he may be able to score Byakuya’s help when it’s light outside, and even more so now that he seemed to have a new sort of power over the other boy.

Byakuya leaves the bedroom, probably to get his own towel. Though Makoto doesn’t think aloud, and Byakuya is not a mind-reader, he still feels as though he can think more freely once he’s alone.

Byakuya Togami had made a _move_ on him.

_He’d kissed him!_

Outside, arguing in the freezing rain, he’d felt completely unsurprised, he’d felt like it was natural. But now, warming up and thinking straight, mind clearing from the haze of desperation from earlier, it settles in a little heavier than he would’ve expected it to.

He likes Byakuya, he’ll admit that to himself. He’s admitted it to himself before. No one else made him feel quite like he did. Still, he feels selfish, like now wasn’t the time to be immersing himself in romantics. He supposes this isn’t really romantic at all. It hadn’t been some grade A confession of love, it’d been a sloppy first kiss formed by tension and fear. Now he was staying over, not because Byakuya needed him or wanted him to, but because he was afraid he’d lose him if he let him go.

There was some romance in that, Makoto thinks. That he didn’t want the boy to endanger himself. He still feels like something needs to be done, he _has_  to do something. Like he’d been begging others to do all along. But it was like Byakuya had said, there was nothing they could do in the rain, in the middle of the night. And he, once again, had disappeared without telling his parents anything.

He’s surprised he hadn’t gotten a chewing out from the other day when he’d done this, what with the news of Kyouko spreading like wildfire. Makoto knows if he asks Byakuya, he’ll take him home. He was stern and forceful, but he wasn’t planning to hold him hostage. If the smaller boy really didn’t want to stay, he didn’t have to.

But he does want to.

He seeks comfort in the embrace that he now knows returns his shaky feelings.

He’d ponder it further, but the bedroom door shifts in the corner of his eye, and Byakuya comes in wearing something Makoto would’ve never considered seeing him in.

It’s a simple white t-shirt and black sweatpants, such a casual outfit that normally, one wouldn’t pay it any mind. But that was what made it stand out to him. It was simple. Byakuya’s casual wear was even a bit pricey, but this resembles something even Makoto would wear. It’s more attractive than he’d like to admit.

He looks over Makoto with critical eyes before brushing past him and opening a drawer on his dresser. The shorter boy comes to stand next to him, peering into the drawer in a curious manner. It’s just t-shirts, but Byakuya is examining them closely, giving the inanimate fabrics a cold look. It’d make Makoto chuckle if he wasn’t freezing to death.

He picks one up in his hand and turns to hand it to the other boy. His glasses, clearing from the rain, glare in the light from overhead. Makoto takes it, feeling the fabric between his finger and thumb, and nods to Byakuya.

It was so quiet. There’s not much to be said, really. What’d happened had happened, and neither of them seemed to oppose it.

He takes off to the bathroom, eagerly peeling his wet clothes off to slip the shirt on. It was just a plain shirt, an off-white, sort of cream color. His pants are damp still, and there is a pair on the edge of the counter, but he doesn’t know if they were placed there for him or if they just happened to be there… but putting them on couldn’t hurt, right?

He’s fed up with the sticky fabric of his pants, so he opts to switch. The worst that would happen is that Byakuya would give him another pair and make him change out of these ones if they were special for some reason. He’s overthinking it, he decides, tying the drawstring on the pants slowly, he was being nervous. The past few weeks had been nerve wracking enough… and it wasn’t over with yet. He still had to find Kyouko…

Makoto gives a quick sigh of satisfaction as he tidies himself up, forgetting his wet clothes sitting on the bathroom floor as he clicks the light out and heads back to the bedroom. He’d take Byakuya’s advice and try to take it easy. If he didn’t think about it, it couldn’t hurt him. Like the other had said, there was nothing he could do right now anyway. He tries to console himself, chanting that in his head like a mantra.

“There’s nothing I can do right now.”

Makoto can’t sleep. He’d had no trouble the last time he’d been here, at least once he’d been in the bed. So he can’t blame his restlessness on being in an unfamiliar place. The bed is likely the most comfortable thing he's ever slept on, and the borrowed clothes are warm, even if the sweatpants are two sizes too long. Besides, despite being here only twice now, it didn’t _feel_ unfamiliar. It was comfortable, especially since he hadn’t been made to sleep on the floor. He’d wanted to be on the floor the first time, heat coursing through his cheeks at the idea of sharing a bed with the other, but tonight it doesn’t bother him so much. Maybe because he doesn’t feel afraid to reveal anything now.

They’d gone to bed with very few words. He guesses that Byakuya is trying to think things over just like he is. They’re together, but so lost in thought they don’t spend much time talking. Byakuya is asleep now, but it’s not the same story for him.

He can still feel the heated pressure on his lips from earlier, his thumb brushing over his lower lip like a vice. He can’t help it. It’d been a monumental shift in the future, in how things would end up for them.

 A lot of things were changing these days.

He closes his eyes tightly to try and dissuade himself from thinking about it, but he can’t help it. He presses his cheek to the pillow, brushing his skin against it gently. Kyouko was _still gone._ Part of his brain, a devious part he didn’t know existed, considers getting up, at nearly midnight, and leaving. Going to look for her in the darkest hours of the night was possibly the dumbest thing he’d ever come up with, but that wasn’t the part that shocked him.

He couldn’t _leave_ , not after seeing Byakuya bare himself like that. He’d shared part of himself that he’d always kept hidden, no matter how good of friends they’d become. He can’t even to begin to fathom the repercussions of that. No, there’s no way he’s walking out on Byakuya.

“Are you asleep?”

He calls out mindlessly, his hand fisting in the sheets as he blindly searches for some sort of comfort in his anxious thinking. Byakuya’d just tell him there was ‘nothing to be done as of right now’ and to go to sleep, but the boy’s voice alone would be enough to help him get a grip. He doesn’t expect an answer, however. So when he gets one, he’s surprised enough to pick his head up and look at the other’s back, still turned to him.

“No,”

“Oh,” He sits up absentmindedly, fiddling with the fabric in his hand, “Are you okay?”

Byakuya sits up on his elbows, his head lolling tiredly to look over at Makoto. His eyes are squinted, his lack of glasses provides an opening for his hair to fall in front of his view.

“Why do you ask?”

It _was_ a weird question, he guesses. He was the one who’d started the crying and yelling in the rain, not Byakuya. He just wants to know, really. He didn’t have any ulterior motives for asking. He answers honestly.

“I dunno.”

Byakuya sits up all the way, raising an eyebrow as he shifts on his hip to face the other boy. He looks tiredly confused, but mild concern lingers in his gaze. Makoto hadn’t meant to alarm him by asking that. He _did_ have something more to say, but he’s not sure if now is the time. Byakuya’s gaze is unjudging, uncharacteristically patient. He steels himself, taking a breath and flopping back down to lie on the pillows.

“This is summertime,” He blows a quick breath out of his mouth, “We should be having fun, not wondering why... _she_ disappeared and why no one else seems to care.”

The words come out heavier than he’d meant them to. They put an enormous weight on the conversation, if you could call it that. He was really just thinking out loud. His mind keeps rolling, his mouth moving of its own accord, speaking out words he would’ve kept inside otherwise. It felt too good to get this off his chest. He felt safe in saying this here.

“I-” He swallows, “I like you. A lot.”

His face heats up incredibly, embarrassed to admit his feelings despite the fact that they were long since revealed. He knows he’s being stared at, but he refuses to return the gaze. He continues, his cheeks ablaze.

“I should’ve gotten to tell you the right way, not like this.”

He picks at the sheets quietly, holding his breath as he awaits a response. He was just being truthful. He _had_ always liked Byakuya, and he should’ve been able  to confess like all corny teenagers do, not crying in the middle of the night because his best friend went missing.

“Things happen, Makoto,” His voice is heavy, tired.  A hand is placed on his shoulder, its gentle grip reassuring him. He nods, some of the embarrassment melting away. The darkness of the room blurs Byakuya’s figure, but he can still track the movement of the boy laying back down, facing him this time.

He flips on his side to face him, some of the residual blush building back up from their position. They’d ended up like this by accident the other morning, but now it was intentional. It made him _more_ bashful this way if that was possible.

Byakuya seems unfazed. Or maybe he’s just tired. He stares lazily, one of his hands grabbing the one of Makoto’s that’s fisted so tightly in the sheets. His thumb leaves a trail of warmth as he brushes it over Makoto’s knuckles slowly.

“We’ll find her, right?”

It’s unspoken who he’s talking about. It’s obvious.

Byakuya’s other arm reaches forward to wrap itself around Makoto’s shoulders, unabashedly pulling him closer. His chin rests atop Makoto’s head, and the smaller boy would be lying if he said he wasn’t really enjoying this. He’d even dreamed about it before,  but he wishes that the circumstances were different. He wishes that things could just be happy again, no more of this bittersweet nonsense. 

Byakuya sighs, squeezing his hand gently before finally answering, “We’ll see.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the huge gap... I started both sophomore year of HS and my freshman year of college last week. I've been busy :/ This is a bit of a filler too, it's okay though. Tuesdays are my off days so expect updates then. (And maybe Thursdays, if i can swing it.)

Makoto wakes, for the second time in his life, in Byakuya’s room. Again, he’s been scooped into the larger boy’s arms, but this time he’s unsurprised. It’d happened purposefully, and he doesn’t feel pressed to move away or get up. A rush of cold air on the back of his neck sends him shuffling even closer to the other boy, pulling the covers up as best he can. He can feel the curve of Byakuya’s exposed collarbone against his forehead, and he resists the urge to touch with his fingers.

Last night had been… many things. All he’d wanted was to go search for her, yet he’d been denied that. At first, he’d been angry, shocked, desperate, but he hadn’t quite realized just why Byakuya cared so damn much. He still didn’t have a full grasp on what exactly the other felt for him. He barely had a grip on his own emotions. Right now, things weren’t exactly easy to process. Everything just felt so _hard_. Makoto was used to the easy life, in the sense of being happy with himself and his lifestyle. He’d never been faced with a… a tragedy before.

They could do _something._   Byakuya couldn’t deny him now. Not when there was no reason he couldn’t accompany him. They could even alert some of the others, they could have everyone looking for her. That’d surely work better than a couple policemen who didn’t know the slightest thing about Kyouko.

His mind is awake now, running at full capacity, but his train of thought is staggered when the hand resting on his hip shifts to curl its fingers into the fabric of his pants. It makes him freeze and shift backward a bit to look upwards at Byakuya’s face.

He’s awake, but he doesn’t seem too interested in doing anything. Makoto had seen him rouse himself the other day, and he’d also seen him tired, but he could confidently say that he’d never seen Byakuya rest before. Not like this anyway.

He doesn’t think Makoto is looking, his frameless eyes are clouded and bored. He’s staring off into thought, his lips parted with each slow breath. He looks different without his glasses, his face seems younger, more like the teenager he is and less like the heir to an entire company. As much as Makoto would like to keep staring, Byakuya takes notice of his shifted posture when he goes to run his hand through the other’s hair.

“You’re up.”

“Yea.”

It’s a short answer, but it’s not spoken curtly. Makoto’s just… thinking. He’s thinking so much these days.

“I’ve been up for a while.”

Byakuya removes his hand from Makoto, who tilts his head up even further. He scoots up to make it easier to speak. He rests his head against the pillows, closing his eyes as he responds.

“You don’t sleep a lot.”

Byakuya had been up last night and had woken quite easily the night Makoto had that terrible nightmare. He always seemed to be awake, and even when he slept, it was as if he slept with one eye open. It was troubling to Makoto because he’d always slept so well. Lately though, it seemed he shared the other boy’s sleeping problems.

“No,” Byakuya sighs heavily, “I don’t.”

Makoto brings a hand up from where he’s tucked them against his torso to touch the other’s arm, wrapping his small fingers around it gently in an attempt to offer some form of comfort. He figures if Byakuya was going to stray from his own personal norms to comfort him, then he should reciprocate. It felt strange; a warm, buzzing sensation in his chest coming from lying with the other boy like this. If someone had told Makoto, only a few days ago, that Byakuya held feelings for him, and that he would actually admit to it, he would’ve laughed at them. He would’ve called them crazy.

“How do you feel?”

Makoto doesn’t even need to ponder this one, the twinge of a headache in his temples and the never-ending weight on his chest testify for him.

“Not great.”

Byakuya hums, his arm moving out from under Makoto’s hand as he wraps it around the smaller’s waist to pull him back in. Makoto makes a noise of surprise as he’s tucked into Byakuya’s chest, resting his cheek against the curve of the sheets and his forehead pressing into the crook of his neck.

“You’ll have to go home soon.”

“What time is it?” Makoto pulls away reluctantly to finally sit up, his curiosity getting the best of him. If Byakuya was still laying here, it had to be fairly early. He got up early every day, and it astounded Makoto that someone could get up at six or seven o’clock in the morning and not feel tired at all, especially with his weird sleep schedule.

"Noon."

His eyebrows arch in surprise, turning his head to look at the other boy in questioning. It was that late and Byakuya hadn’t gotten up yet? Now he understands what the boy had meant when he said he’d been up for “A while.” Byakuya sits up as well, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and extending his long arms to stretch the stiffness from them.

“That late? Why didn’t you just wake me earlier?”

He could’ve gotten up and gone home at any time if Byakuya was ready to start the day. He'd figured he’d be woken up early, and he wouldn’t have protested being sent home. But just maybe, Byakuya wanted to stay with him longer. It was absurd to think Byakuya had laid here this long just for him.

“You looked like you needed the sleep.”

He stands slowly, arching his back as he stretches upwards. Makoto scolds himself for admiring the patch of skin that’s visible when his shirt lifts up a bit. He flushes, turning away so the pink on his cheeks isn’t visible. He makes to stand as well, his bare feet meeting the carpet as he curls his toes.

“Well, thank you,” He murmurs, stretching his own arms as he bends over to grab his shoes from the bedside.

“You don’t have to thank me for everything.”

Byakuya’s voice is more teasing than actually annoyed, his eyes rolling as he grabs his glasses from his nightstand. Makoto manages a chuckle, his weighted heart feeling lighter than it has over the past week. Things were far from being better, but Byakuya was helping. He appreciated it, really.  He busies himself with straightening his hair in the mirror that sits atop Byakuya’s dresser, messing with the unruly strands. He doesn’t notice when the other comes to stand beside him, not until an arm pulls him by the waist.

“Oh! What-?”

Makoto shuts his eyes tight as a pair of lips presses to his forehead, his body flush with Byakuya’s. The other hadn’t been able to keep himself away, not now that he felt it was safe to kiss Makoto whenever he wanted. He was going to take advantage of that. When he pulls away, face a rosy hue, Makoto is twice as red, his hand coming up to press his fingers to his face in a bashful gesture. He just couldn’t get used to the buzzing feeling that kissing Byakuya brought him, and he’d only done it twice now! The other is equally flustered, embarrassment painting his cheeks.

“What was that for?” Makoto blinks slowly and allows himself a tiny smile.

“I thought it’d been established that I could do that now.”

Something had changed between them, but for the better, Makoto thinks.

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, I am so sorry for the HUGE delay. Here's the rest all at once. I need to just get it out before I'm swamped again. Hope anyone affected by Hurricanes/fires/earthquakes is alright, and thank you for any kind comments.

Makoto had felt entirely ready to surge back into the rush of mystery that was Kyouko's disappearance, but his body told him otherwise. As soon as he'd drug himself home from Byakuya's, he'd collapsed in bed, exhausted despite the comfortable sleep the night before. To him, it was unfortunate. He’d wanted so badly to go to the supposed scene of Kyouko’s disappearance. Busying himself with the purpose of finding her had surely helped to lift some of the crushing guilt off of his shoulders. His mind was foggy enough, but as soon as he’d woken from his daze and headed downstairs, he’d been swarmed by his mother and sister. They accused him of, ‘never being home’, making it impossible for him to even try to leave. He’d even had to explain what he was wearing, his mother eyeing the clothes that weren’t his like they were some form of teenage rebellion. He’d just changed because it’d been raining, that was all. He definitely wasn’t going to be telling his mother what had happened last night.

He hadn’t even had a chance to get to his phone to talk to Byakuya, who he felt he had a _lot_ to say to. He's lucky, he thinks. Not everyone got to see their feelings returned, especially not from a person with an attitude like Byakuya’s. Still, the stirring of guilt sitting deep in his mind derails any sort of positivity; Not even thoughts of his newfound relationship with the heir help him toss off the incessant, guilty veil. Having escaped from his family for a while, he lays in bed, his stomach flat to the mattress and his head buried in the pillows. He hadn’t been able to nap very well, and he curses himself for getting attached to the softness and scent of Byakuya’s room in the two short times he’d slept there.

As he lays idle, lost in thought, he can’t help but to wonder- If Kyouko was here, would Byakuya eventually have confessed anyways? He’d only kissed Makoto out of desperation and exasperation,  the feelings tangling his sense of judgment as he tried to dissuade Makoto from putting himself in danger. Was this predicament the only reason he’d admitted his feelings? They had always been close in a way that none of their classmates understood. The heir and the ordinary high school boy being good friends was a rather atypical situation. Makoto had to struggle for a long time to get under the other’s tough skin, but once he’d managed it a whole other side of Byakuya opened up to him. And he felt, despite the curiosity from his friends, that he needn't explain it. They were friends, that was all anyone needed to know.

But it turned out to mean a lot more than friendship, hadn’t it?

Those ideas swimming in his head: His relationship with Byakuya and just how it had changed so suddenly, and Kyouko, and just what he was going to do about her. He imagines that Kyouko would’ve blessed his relationship with Byakuya, granted they’d ended up together. She always gave the best advice, even about relationships she’d never been in.

His phone vibrates beside him, still unchecked from the afternoon before. He hadn’t bothered.

As much as he felt he and Byakuya needed to work things out properly, they weren’t pressed for time. They had as long as they needed, but Kyouko didn’t. He hates that he's allowed other things to get in the way of his search, he should be working, not lying in bed. He knows that the night before was a bust, it would’ve been impossible to take action, what with the rain and Byakuya's new overprotectiveness.

Today, though, was a different story.

He grabs his phone and cranes his neck awkwardly to read the screen. It’s Aoi, which he didn’t expect. He’s pleasantly surprised, not having had a chance to talk to her for a couple of days. At least _she_ was doing well under all this stress.

**Aoi: Makoto, Someone came to the police with some info!**

Makoto’s breath catches in his throat as he tries to make sure he read that correctly. His chest swells with hope, his eyes shooting wide as he rockets upwards to sit up on his knees. His stomach twists from the awkward movement after being stationary on his bed for so long, but he’s able to ignore it. The excitement is much more prominent than the tingling pain.

**Makoto: What’d they say!?**

It had to be something fairly important if the gossip had spread all the way down the chain. Gossip was the _only_ reason he’d heard about the police’s work so quickly. And what they’d needed was some form of evidence to push the investigation further: This was it! This was what would bring her home! 

**Aoi: Um, I think it was Mondo Oowada?**

He breathes out heavily through his nose, sighing in mixed excitement and irritation. He could care less about who said it, he wants to know _what._ God, what he’d give to hear that Kyouko was safe and sound, back at her house. He’d give his own self to see her reunited with their friends and her father. It was all that mattered to him in that moment, the sign that showed Aoi was still typing felt like a ticking time bomb. He prays, oh so desperately, to whatever God above that he’ll do better. He’ll be a better friend to her, just let them find her… _please._

**Aoi: Makoto,**

**Aoi: He said they saw an accident on the road that night…**

**Aoi: Drunk drivers and all…**

The way the usually peppy girl had phrased that… He forces himself to reread the messages over and over until his eyes burn.

No…

The feeling of hope, relief, whatever it had been that’d made his heart lift, it was gone.

He chokes on his own breath, his grip tightening on his phone so hard he swears it’ll break. He drops it into the sheets on the bed, the strange sitting posture he’d adapted falling as he slumps onto his knees. His head hangs as his chest tightens and his stomach twists.

That… **No** , it couldn’t be right.

That feeling of desperation. That clawing in his throat that he despised so much.

Kyouko was _fine._ She was just… not around. She was just somewhere else. She was going to come back, whether she be found or come on her own. He knew she was just fine, and everyone else knew so too. They were just… messing with him. That had to be it.

An accident. It’d just been a deer or some other type of roadkill. It happened all the time. Hagakure lived in the woods, and it was the darkest hour of the night when Kyouko had left. It was all coincidence. Sick coincidence. He wraps his arms around himself tightly, his breathing shallow. He ignores the buzzing from his misplaced phone, Aoi’s name accompanied by worried messages at his lack of a response. He hates to think he’s hurting his friends, but what would he say? It wasn’t okay that this was happening, and he wasn’t going to lie to her.

He continues spiraling down the path of denial, his mind churning out alternatives to what Aoi had told him. There was no way the police found anything to prove an accident had taken place, nor could anyone prove that Mondo was telling the truth. It was Mondo, he lied sometimes… right? 

But… could he lie about something like that?

It was just like Leon… What reason could the other teenager have to lie about Kyouko’s disappearance?

Makoto tries to force himself to stop thinking like that, even though it’s completely logical. He’s finally able to calm himself, his breathing becoming steady as he convinces himself that it was just a ploy. Someone had hit an animal and Mondo had been mistaken, that was all.

He reaches for his phone to answer Aoi, her string of messages laying out her concern for him.

**Makoto: It was just an animal, I’m sure.**

He seems so sure, so calm in his response. 

**Makoto: Something like that doesn’t happen.**

He tries to refer to what Aoi had insinuated without saying it. He can’t say it. He can’t let himself believe Kyouko had been… 

**Aoi: I dunno… It was dark and people were drunk…**

It was such a bland response… Makoto splutters when he tries to cough, his voice caught in his unbearably tight throat. Why didn’t anyone ever agree with him?

He wouldn’t let this happen. Not again.

If Kyouko had been… hurt... There’d be evidence to prove it! There’d be something that proved she’d been involved in an accident. And He would find it, he would find that evidence, or rather, he wouldn’t.

Without any evidence, it couldn't have happened, right? Not true until it was proven so, and without any sign of her, then it couldn’t be proven!

He tosses his phone down and springs up from the bed, his eyes brimming with determination as he makes his decision. He wouldn’t trust anyone with his plan this time, no matter how sunny it was outside. This was his job, he would go alone.

He’s nearly sick as he stumbles clumsily down the stairs, his phone forgotten on the bed, buzzing with worry from Aoi. He steps out the door, his eyes fixed forward, his hands trembling.

He’d prove she was fine. Nothing he’d been thinking about earlier seemed to matter at all. _This_ was what mattered, he was going to make sure it was taken care of.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anotha one

Makoto, moving with wild abandon, takes off.

He only realizes that he’s left his phone after he’s too far to care about it. Familiar houses and signs whizz by in blurs as he hurries towards the road that leads to Hagakure’s little house. He damns himself for not having his license yet, this bike was insufferable. He’d had it since middle school, the wheels were bumpy and the chain was sticky. It’d have to do for now, though. He only wishes he could get there faster.

He feels like someone is going to stop him, even though no one knows that he’d left his house. He wasn’t going to tell anyone this time; he shouldn’t have the first time. He was glad that he and Byakuya had begun to work things out between themselves, but that was a personal matter. It was selfish to worry about that right now. Kyouko needed him- needed all of them. _Her friends._

He doesn’t realize how fast he’s breathing until he forces himself to slow down to take the sharp curve of the road as it veers to the left. The asphalt here is less maintained, rocky and full of cracks. Not a problem in your average car, but on an old bike he has to readjust his weight to prepare to steady himself, just in case.

The road doesn’t look like he remembers.

When he’d come by in Sakura’s car, he’d stared off into the forest and watched the trees that rose up off the incline of the bank, but now he’s staring straight ahead. It’s beautiful, he thinks, but it carries a feeling, an aura of dread. The trees are bent like they’re trying to form a canopy overhead, the late afternoon sun beaming down. It’s like a tunnel of forestry and foliage. It only breaks for a moment to reveal where Hagakure’s driveway is.

For Kyouko to get home quickly, she’d walk down the road opposite of the way they’d come in. She would know that. Like Makoto, she’d been born in this town. Even the back roads were common knowledge to them.

He uses his built up speed to roll slowly past Hagakure’s, glancing over at the small, white house. Only one car sat in the driveway now, nothing like the packed atmosphere it’d had when that party had happened.

That damn party…

Makoto picks up speed again, glancing, as calmly as he can muster, from side to side. He rides right through the center of the road, his eyes fixed on the banks of either side. If something had been left behind from her, it’d be there, having fallen off the road in the past days she’d been gone for. Really, he’s looking for nothing. He’s hoping for nothing.

If he couldn’t find a single thing, then that would assure him that Aoi was wrong, and the information had just been unrelated to Kyouko’s disappearance. Besides, if someone had stopped because they hit a person, wouldn’t they have at least called an ambulance? Or something? He nods to himself and swallows thickly, pleased with the absence of anything strange so far. 

Certainly, he’d find nothing. Or maybe... he _would_ find something, but that something would prove, without a doubt, that it was impossible for her to have been hit. It would be wonderful, a true blessing, if he were to find something like that. Determination courses through him as he presses himself to go faster, evening out his breathing. Kyouko could’ve only gone so far before she would’ve made it back to the main road, but still, there’s nothing.

As much as Makoto had been praying for nothing, he feels a dark sensation settle over his shoulders. Shouldn’t there be some type of roadkill, at least? Or maybe a fallen tree branch? Yes, he’d _wanted_ there to be nothing, but if there was nothing, why would someone have reported an accident? Finding nothing doesn’t set him at ease or put his fears to rest like he'd thought, it just makes them worse. He’d been wrong.

He puffs out a heavy sigh, squeezing his brakes to a stop to stare forward. The road only went on for a tiny stretch. He can see the turn from here, and a few more moments of riding would make it apparent that the road didn’t go on for as long as it seemed. He’d half expected to see the police out here, but he’s grateful for their negligence. Apparently, they’d only been given the information that morning, but gossip spread much quicker than the police worked. All it took was for Mondo to tell someone else from their class, and then everyone knew just what he’d said.

Makoto still doesn’t want to believe it, but he can’t shake the feeling that it’s an honest statement.

Sitting still in the center of the road, he steels himself again, pushing off. He was done doing nothing. He was going to search this street all night if that was what it took. He’d go into those foreboding woods, just to make sure. Anything seemed game at this point. 

He moves quickly, under the assumption that there's nothing left to find. The tight bundle of dread in his chest had blurred his mind into a creature of desperation. He figured he’d come to the end of the road and turn around to double back, something he could accomplish easily going as fast as he was. What he didn’t figure was a little shape on the ground, sitting just in front of him. 

It was different from the pieces of gravel and the cracks in the road below.

He makes to stop, the old bike skidding in protest. He realizes too late that he'd tried to stop too quickly, too suddenly. As the bike gives out beneath him, he hits the pavement. He shakes in surprise, despite having anticipated the fall, his palms bracing him against the asphalt. He’d definitely done better than letting his head hit the road, but now his skinned palms hurt like burning fire, small beads of blood making their way onto his skin. He winces, trying to sit up.

His bike lays off the side of the road, but he’s not looking for it. The object, that little, familiar item. Where had it gone!?

When he tries to stand, his ankle protests, having been forced to twist awkwardly during his collision with the road. He instead scoots forward on his burning palms, the warm asphalt smearing the bit of blood that’d collected there. He spots the object, just a few feet away, and he lunges for it, trying to ignore the pain that sparks from his ankle.

He feels it beneath his fingers, cradling it in ripped up palms before unfurling his fingers to take a closer look. Maybe it was a rock or some litter, maybe it wasn’t what he thought it was. His heart hammers in his chest as he peeks through his hand.

It was a little charm. One that used to hang off a very familiar, unique, purple phone case.

His breathing stills, he doesn’t have the energy to force himself to take a breath. This told him nothing, this little piece told him absolutely nothing. If anything, it told him she _had_ been hit. It wasn’t something that could just be dropped. It was attached to her phone case securely. If it had been a hair clip or even an earring… but no, this was nothing but evidence to further Mondo’s claim. Not rebut it.

He clasps it back into his fingers, holding it tightly in his bloodied palms. He lets himself fall back from his sitting position, his legs splayed on the asphalt awkwardly. His head hits the ground hard, but he can’t pay any mind to the pain thrumming through him as he tries to decide whether to break down in tears or to continue feeling numb. The numbness of realization, the realization that something _had_ happened to Kyouko, to _his best friend_ -

He couldn’t cry, there weren’t any tears in his dry eyes.

Why had he even thought he could _do_ something? Why had he even _left_ the house?

He hadn’t been of any help up unto this point, and even now, he was no closer to knowing what had happened to her. All he’d done was cause his friends and family strife by endangering himself, thinking he was some sort of detective. He wasn’t. He was just _some kid_.

He holds the charm close to his heart, closing his eyes tightly, fending off tears that aren’t there.

_This is my fault. Why couldn’t it have been me?_

The guilt that had first stemmed from that horrible dream begins to claw its way back up his throat from where he’d tried to contain it. He shakes, his breathing uneven and shallow.

He was lucky that this road was so unused, so far off the beaten path. He lies dead in the center.

He tries to sit up, the weight of his pain, mental and physical, weighing him down like bricks of cement. His ankle and his head throb, his palms are still bleeding. He feels stupid. This was exactly what Byakuya had been trying to avoid.

Byakuya...

What would he say?

He’d be livid, Makoto thinks. Everything that he’d never let out before, the emotions of fear and concern for someone other than himself. He’d shown that side to Makoto, and he’d still gone and done it anyways. He’d ignored those feelings and put himself in danger.

He lies on the road, the last piece of Kyouko clasped tightly in his hands. Laying here in the woods brought him a feeling of serenity despite all that’d happened, a moment of calm in the storm. Part of him says to drag himself to his feet, to force himself to go home and fix himself up. That part was the Makoto he’d always been, the Makoto that loved all of his friends and family.

But a new part of him, a part born of the guilt and the disaster, rising from the dread that’d ensnared his heart as of late, it tells him to lie here.

It tells him to keep a vigil, to lie here on the road and suffer.

It’s a nasty voice that whispers that he deserves it because it’s his fault. He'd never heard this voice before, and he’s scared. Scared like a small child. He doesn’t know for sure what’d happened or what finding the charm meant for Kyouko, but as far as the voice in his head was concerned, she was dead. She was gone from him, and it’d been his own fault.

So, he lies there. The evil in his mind having beat out the small bit that still felt like himself.

It feels like years, millennia. The sun beginning to set, the woods around him dimming and becoming like the forbidden forests one hears about in fairy tales.

He lets out a breath, the pain in his body nothing but a dull thrum to him now. It feels like ice creeping down his back when a new thought occurs to him, a thought brought by the suffering and the guilt. He was lying here, in the quickly darkening woods on a street only traveled by those taking a short-cut, moving quickly. 

And he wonders, his breath caught in his tight throat, if the same fate as Kyouko would befall him as well.


	14. Chapter 14

Every trace of the sun had disappeared.

It was just as dark outside as it had been the night before. Just as dark as when he'd been told to stay away from this very place.

He hadn’t managed to get up, but he couldn’t force himself to care about his wellbeing, not while one of his closest, beloved friends was gone. Not while it was his own fault.

His head is more than just swirling with grief, it’s fuzzy. He can barely make out the shapes of trees when he peels his dry, stinging eyes open to look around. His common sense, shrouded in misty indifference, _should_ shield him when the sound of a car rolling closer forces its way into his muddled ears.

It doesn’t.

Normally, he’d at least attempt to roll out of the way or try to sit up, do _something_ to protect himself. That was just human nature, to protect oneself, but right now he doesn’t feel quite human. Nothing was normal, so why should he act as if it was?

But the car stops, its breaks squeaking ever so slightly. It’s stopped a fair distance away, having noticed him before it could get close enough to be a real danger. The headlights cast a glow over him that would make him impossible to miss. He can hear a voice, feminine and high, it sounds frightened and hurried. He’s sure that if his head didn’t hurt so badly he could point out who it was exactly, but right now, there’s no way he could tell. It just hurt too much to think about anything other than what’d happened.

His numb fingers slide over the charm, holding it tighter to his chest. He wouldn’t lose it, no matter what. Kyouko was gone, but this wasn’t, he had this piece of her and he’d be a dead man before he let something happen to it. Whoever was driving the car would have to do something about him whether they knew him or not, he was right in the center of the road. Not to mention he looked like he was in need of serious help.

Makoto didn’t want help, but a hand suddenly grasping his cold arm gives it anyway.

He hears a familiar voice as a pair of arms attempt to lift him as gently as possible. The tone is shaken and angry when it responds to the female voice. Makoto doesn’t know who, but it could be anyone. Right now all he can think about is the way his ankle screams in protest at being dangled freely in the air. He’s being held under his knees, bridal style, and the way his 'savior' is swaying must mean he’s being walked back to the car.

The air around him is suddenly cooler as he’s placed on what he believes to be the back seat of the car. The pain coursing up his leg alone is enough for him to nearly pass out as soon as his back hits the material and the weight of his limp ankle subsides.

And he lets himself rest.

He doesn’t feel like he deserves it, that nasty voice refuses to relinquish its grip on him, but his body demands it. He lets out a deep sigh, his chest creaking as he finally drifts off, something softer than asphalt under his throbbing head.

* * *

 

Makoto had fallen asleep in pain, and now he was waking up in pain.

It made sense, but that doesn’t make the incessant aching any easier to bear.

He groans quietly and tries to roll over, but the blankets restrict his movements. He’s a bit surprised to feel his own sheets wrapped around him tightly. The fact that he’s in his room makes him think maybe what’d happened was all a dream, but if it was only a dream then his body wouldn't hurt so much. If it wasn’t a dream, then his questions only multiply tenfold. The last thing he remembers is passing out in the road but-

**_No_ ,** _no_ , he’d been moved, someone had come and moved him to a car _\- then_ he’d passed out.

He manages to pry his eyes open, blinking away stars of blurred light from the morning light streaming in through his window. His eyelids stick together dryly, and it hurts like hell to force them open.

God, he feels terrible.

But it's true, he's definitely in his room, all tucked into bed. So whoever had saved him had known where he lived, at least. They’d _sounded_ familiar, but Makoto had lots of friends.

All he wants is to get up, to continue his trial to find out what’d happened.

He’d lost Kyouko, as far as he knew, but that didn’t mean he had to take this lying down. He’d spent so much time comforting himself and hanging around with his friends that he’d lost his chance to save her before she was gone for good.

But if she’d… died _that night_ , there’d never _been_ a chance to save her.

No, he couldn’t think like this. He could still find out how it’d happened that night, he could still uncover just how someone had managed to steal her away because of his own negligence. Because he'd ignored her.

But Kyouko- The charm!

**Where was it?!**

Makoto frantically feels around himself in the bed, his fingers feeling for the squishy rubber inside his pockets and among the folds in the sheets, but there’s nothing. He forces himself to sit up rather quickly, his head spinning as he blinks around the room. His hands are already working, patting the comforter all around. Everything in his body is telling him, ‘lie down, lie down,’ but he _can’t._ He has to have it, that last piece of his best friend.

It’s not just his own pain yelling at him, his muddled brain hadn’t managed to notice the girl sitting in the corner of the room, waiting for him to wake. But she certainly had noticed him sit up so suddenly, wincing in pain as his hands awkwardly fumbled around the mattress.

“Whoa! You need to lie down!”

The voice shocks him into slowing, his head turning towards the rapidly approaching figure. She begins to take shape as he focuses his wobbling vision on her bright red jacket, her hand coming out to guide him back down to a laying position.

“Aoi?”

His voice is a lot hoarser than he’d expected, and he coughs after he forces the name out of his throat. He hadn’t even managed to cry that night, he’d felt so emotionally dry. Everything was _dry_ , his eyes and his throat. Nothing made sense to him right now, was Aoi the one who’d brought him home? How had she managed that all on her own?

“Ah, man,” Her hand leaves his shoulder as she stands straight up, looking down at him in bed, “Can I get you anything?”

The concern in her voice makes Makoto feel terrible, he’d not only managed to injure himself, but also scare his friend in doing so, and make her tend to him like a child. He shakes his head, coughing again as he focuses on her harder. She looks like Aoi now, less like a blur of colors that he hadn’t been able to comprehend. His head throbs, but it’s more comforting to stare at his friend’s gentle face rather than a mess of motion.

“W-Where…?”

“Yea, that.” Aoi scratches the back of her neck, frowning deeply, “We gave that to the police… It might help.”

The words are like a needle, stabbing through Makoto’s chest and deflating him back into a heap in his sheets, now tangled because of his frantic movements. The last piece of Kyouko, and it’d been given to those police officers. The same ones that had given up due to lack of evidence when there’d been something right there. Something even ordinary, old him had been able to find. He doesn’t have a response to that, his head slumping down onto the pillows in defeat.

Aoi sits on the edge of the bed, looking like she wants to comfort him, but isn’t sure how. Her face is lost, melancholy in a way that he’s never seen her look before. Everyone was being affected by this, and it really was _all_ his fault. He decides it’s better to just talk to her, rather than leave her sitting there like that. She at least deserves that much. His voice is bleary,  and he’s never heard himself sound so dead.

“W-What happened?” He has to pause to cough, “How’d you find me?”

Aoi perks up a bit, ready to tell him.

“You wouldn’t answer me and I got scared.” She clasps her hands together as if to stress the point, “I tried a couple of our friends, for help.”

She smiles when she speaks the next line, an actual smile of amusement. It makes Makoto’s chest feel a little lighter.

“Well, uhm.” She scratches the back of her neck and makes eye contact with him, “Byakuya actually answered. He told me he knew where you would’ve gone.”

Makoto shifts at the mention of that name, swallowing heavily.

“He brought his car and we went together. When we found you-... Well, we just brought you home.”

She cuts herself off, not wanting to say whatever thought she’d started. What’d happened when they’d found him? Aoi wasn’t the kind to hesitate when she spoke, something must have happened to make her hesitate. Makoto is worried about that particular detail, but what has him even more upset is the simple fact that Byakuya had been involved at all. Obviously, he would’ve learned of Makoto’s disregard for his feelings sooner or later, but why did he have to be the one to see it firsthand?

The reason is quite elementary: When he’d seen a message regarding Makoto’s safety, he’d been quick to answer it. In that moment, it hadn't mattered which of his classmates he'd received it from, or how much he disliked them.

If Byakuya had been angry with him for coming up with the plan to find Kyouko the other day, then he’d be furious now. Not only had he endangered himself, he’d done it after being told not to. They’d just begun to make something out of their relationship, and now it was possible that he’d ruined it all. His heart falls even further. He feels juvenile, sulking in misery so consuming that he hadn't even known was possible. He’d lost Kyouko, then her charm, and now he’d destroyed whatever it was he’d tried to begin with Byakuya.

He was so… _stupid._

“You should’ve left me.”

The words tear themselves from his stinging throat before he can decide what they mean exactly. It was just like the hurtful side that’d taken root in his soul, to upset the already-stressed girl even further with words full of self-deprecation and harm.

Aoi responds exactly as Makoto would’ve thought.

“Are you crazy!?” Her face is slack with shock, pale and gaunt, “How could you say that? Even Byakuya seemed upset!”

He grimaces, closing his eyes tightly and turning his head further into the pillows so Aoi can’t see the shame on his face. He’d already managed to make Byakuya fear for his safety, that emotion he hid from everyone. Then he’d been forced to show it to Aoi when Makoto had purposely gone to the one place he’d been told not to go to. He doesn’t know what else he expected to happen.

“We’re _all_ upset Makoto, really,” Her voice is hushed with sadness, “But you can’t put this over your own life…” She shifts to place a hand gently on his exposed lower arm, “We’re your friends too, and we need you.”

She offers a sweet smile, but Makoto can’t return it. He remembers what Byakuya had said to him that night, how he’d stressed the point that, if Makoto had been the one to disappear, he'd be ruined.

“I’m sorry,” Is the only thing he can muster, sighing in relief once the words are out of his sticky, dry mouth.

Aoi nods, “It’s okay, don’t stress yourself out.” She stands and stretches her arms, “I’ll go get you some medicine.”

He tries to find peace once he’s alone. Continuing on like he’s been is just slowly killing him. He has to compromise with himself, he can’t go on like this. He’d just made a stupid mistake, but looking back on it, there isn’t any other choice he would’ve made. That meant it _wasn’t_ a mistake. No one had offered any help when she’d gone missing, nor when he’d tried to continue the investigation by himself. What else would he have done? He’d been faced with new information that confirmed the absolute worse ending to this scenario. Had he been expected to just shrug it off when Aoi had told him what Mondo had seen?

The door opening again forces his train of thought to come to a stop. He’s expecting Aoi, the one who’d been here just a moment ago and had left with the impression she’d be right back, but it’s not her. It’s Byakuya.

Makoto doesn’t know what to say as he stares at the expressionless boy in his doorway. His hand is held out, cupped in a fashion that suggests he’s carrying the medicine Aoi had mentioned, and he has a water bottle in the other hand. He strides over quickly, each step is deliberate. He means business, and though his face is completely empty, Makoto’s learned enough to read him. He’s not happy right now, his posture is completely rigid as he extends his hand out for Makoto to take the painkillers.

He takes them obediently, holding them in a fist as he struggles to sit upright. A sudden hand on his shoulder aids him, resting his back against the headboard. Byakuya doesn’t take his hand away from his shoulder when he gives Makoto the water bottle. He looks over at the taller boy, his throat tightening as he prepares to explain himself, but Byakuya nods to his closed fist forcefully, his expression nothing but stern.

Once again, he does as he’s told, taking the pain pills with a bit of the water. It brings some sort of relief, the water refreshing his scratchy throat, but he's not sure he can keep it down. Anxiety churns his stomach with nausea. 

But Byakuya’s still touching him, which is more of a promising sign than what he'd expected. He sighs, readying himself for the impending hurt that’s going to come. They hadn’t even been anything yet, and still, this seemed like it might be the end. Was Byakuya going to tell him to forget everything that’d happened between them because of this?

“I’m sorry-“

“No.”

Makoto stares in confusion, cocking his head slightly, the cool headboard feeling like ice against his headache. What did that mean?

Byakuya shifts, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose like he isn’t sure what to say.

“I should’ve known you’d try something when you heard the news.” He sits down where Aoi had been, his hand slipping off of Makoto’s shoulder. He looks disturbed like he just can’t collect himself. Makoto doesn’t like that look, it doesn’t suit him.

“I-it wasn’t that dangerous, honest-“

“Then why’d we find you unconscious in the street?”

That question puts his defense to rest. There isn’t an answer. It shouldn’t have been dangerous, but Makoto’s life has been anything but normal as of late. He’s always been clumsy, but mixed with the suffering desperation, it only made it worse. So much worse.

Byakuya presses on, his eyes still closed as he mulls over his own words, “I should’ve been beside you.”

It’s a moving statement, but it's one that doesn’t sound right in its placement. He shouldn’t _have_ to protect Makoto, he wasn't a child in need of supervision. But he'd run off for a  _reason_.  If he hadn't gone out looking, then who would've?  It wasn't possible for him to just pretend like it was okay to do nothing.

If Byakuya had been there when he’d heard from Aoi, how different would things have been? Would he have offered to help? To take the car, to make things safer? Or would he have shunned the idea altogether and restrained Makoto to keep him safe? There’s no way of knowing, not really, and he feels so sick of the ‘what-ifs’.

“This is my fault.” He murmurs, turning his head so Byakuya can't look him in the eyes, “It should’ve been me. I shouldn’t be here.”

Akin to what he’d said to Aoi, he’d allowed himself to speak from that nasty coil of guilt and the depression eating at him. There was no point in hiding it.

Byakuya reacts, not only differently from Aoi, but also differently from how Makoto would’ve expected. Byakuya was the kind of person who would usually go silent at the proclamation, would just chalk it up to being weak-willed with a lack of self-respect. But no, he’s anything _but_ silent.

His hand snaps up to Makoto’s face, forefinger and thumb gripping his chin so roughly that it startles him. His headache rattles and he winces in surprise and pain as he’s forced to face Byakuya. The grip twists his head so he has to look into electric blues, hard and unrelenting. The sudden contact is jarring, it makes him close his eyes tightly in response to the anger in the other’s face.

“Don’t _ever_ say something like that to me again.”

His tone is low and threatening, but the threat isn’t _really_ there. Byakuya doesn’t want to hear that, not from the mouth of someone he actually cares for. He’d struggled with his feelings for far too long, not knowing how to deal with liking someone when he was the kind who always saw the worst in people. Hearing Makoto say that he should’ve been the one… It hurt in a way that Byakuya isn’t sure he totally understands.

“If you hadn’t been alright when we finally found you-“

The rough grip he has on the other's chin loosens as he slides his hand to cup Makoto’s cheek instead. The softer touch makes his face heat up with embarrassment, some of the shock melting away as he leans into the hand. He keeps his eyes closed as he relaxes, and Byakuya doesn’t have to say it, it goes without words that he would’ve been devastatingly worried if Makoto had been too severely injured. He was human too, after all. It just seemed so surreal that those human feelings of concern and worry came from someone who was fabled to be so unfeeling and cold.

The hand shifts to the back of his neck, his thumb gently stroking the soft skin near his hairline. Makoto doesn’t open his eyes as Byakuya shifts his weight, swallowing awkwardly as he leans in. His free hand encircles Makoto’s shoulders, supporting his weight as he presses their forms together.

The kisses feel like relief, awkward and unsure at first, but gently and slowly becoming more stable. It’s new to Makoto, though he’d been kissed a few times before. He surely recalls those chaste touches from Byakuya the other day, but this feels so different. Byakuya’s hand tightens against the back of his neck, deepening the kiss as his teeth graze Makoto’s lower lip. It makes the smaller boy shudder, his eyes closing tighter still as he grips Byakuya’s shirt in his trembling fingers. The stars in his eyes are blinding, but they're not from pain or confusion. They're something he can't find the words to describe. He doesn't want to describe it; It's so beautiful shrouded in its mystery.

Though out of breath, he doesn't relent, twinning their foreheads as he rests for a moment. The break doesn't last much longer than a few seconds before Byakuya sparks electric again, his thumb tracing gentle patterns on Makoto's neck as he kisses him again and again. He's forced, eventually, to pull away again, and this time he comes to a stop. Byakuya's gaze is settled on him, those eyes that once held a look of anger softened by gentle, reassuring touches. He moves forward to rest his head on Byakuya’s shoulder, catching his breath. He cuddles closer when a soft murmur of, “I’m glad you’re alright.” is hummed into his ear.

When he opens his eyes, though, that moment of quiet reconciliation between them comes to an end.

Aoi stands, red in the face, a hand clamped over her mouth as she watches them.

And then she bursts into a fit of giggles.


	15. Chapter 15

Her hands cover her mouth, trying to conceal the laughter bubbling from her chest.

Makoto isn’t sure what else he expected. Aoi wasn’t going to think badly of them for something like this, though she does seem a bit embarrassed to have caught them. They’d only been kissing a bit, but he supposes he'd be embarrassed too, had he caught some of his other friends doing the same. His cheeks are flushed with bright pink, matching perfectly with his partner in crime.

Byakuya doesn’t seem to deal with his mild embarrassment as well as the other two, standing briskly and adjusting the already loosened collar of his shirt. He clears his throat and hurriedly leaves the room, brushing past Aoi awkwardly as he makes his way to the hall. Makoto lets him go, turning to address Aoi instead.

“Did you two really stay here all night?”

It sounded strange, the idea of Aoi and Byakuya camping out in his living room because they wanted to keep an eye on him. It made him feel a warmth inside his chest, a small spark of happiness in his unusually dark days. It was like she had said earlier, they were his friends, and they still needed him.

“We just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

He smiles a real smile, despite the everlasting weight on his heart. It was so nice to smile. Aoi moves further into the room. Her smile matching his own as she leans on the panel at the foot of the bed.

“It was really weird,” She taps her chin and scrunches her face as if she’s struggling to recall, “To see Byakuya act like that, I mean.”

Makoto shifts his weight to look at her better, crossing his legs.

“He normally won’t even respond to my texts, but when I told him it was about you…”

She trails off, pursing her lips as she makes a very solemn face. It’s only for a moment though, that the silence overtakes them, because she perks back up quickly. The quick change in mood had put Makoto off. It’d brought such wonderful relief, to be here with his friends, to see them and talk to them, but talking about it in detail only reminded him of why it had happened in the first place. He just wants to forget, to lose himself in a conversation for a little while. Aoi’s bright nature is his saving grace.

“So!” She clasps her hands together in an enthusiastic gesture, “You and him, huh?”

Makoto shrugs, twiddling his thumbs together and gnawing on his lower lip. His half-smile gives him away though, showing how he truly feels about it all. He couldn’t say for certain just what it meant between Byakuya and himself yet, but he figures that conversation is coming sooner or later. He needed this kind of talk, to ponder something other than the events of the last few weeks to help him recover.

He and Byakuya were probably one of the least likely pairs in their grade. The esteemed, rich kid and the ordinary, suburban boy.

“I never woulda guessed!” She exclaims, laughing a bit at Makoto’s unsure happiness.

“Me neither,” He laughs as well, reveling in the feeling It brings.

She leans in closely, a playful, yet curious look overtaking her features. She brings her hand up as if to whisper, but when she speaks she uses normal volume. Her laughter making it impossible for her to keep it down.

“'S that why you keep spending the night?"

It takes him a good moment of confusion before he catches her drift, his face heating up in flustered disbelief as he gives her a shocked look. He feels burning hot, red lining the tops of his cheekbones. He’s completely innocent, not one who even thinks about that sort of thing often, but Aoi’s joke-like question still makes him choke as if he’d been caught redhanded.

“N-Nothing! We haven’t even really talked about anything yet…”

He bites his lip and looks down, a bit of shame curling around the embarrassment. It was true that they hadn’t even talked about their relationship at all, but they’d have to eventually. Byakuya wouldn’t do these sorts of things, wouldn’t treat Makoto the way he did, if he didn’t feel something towards him. He was the type of guy who held everything inside until he just couldn’t anymore. The last few weeks had certainly been stressful enough to make Byakuya overflow, to give him that last push to let Makoto know how he felt.

“You should talk then! You can’t just kiss and not be boyfriends!”

He blushes harder at the term. Would Byakuya even let him call him a ‘boyfriend’?

“Well, I don’t know if-“

“You’re not gonna go out?”

Aoi cocks her head, her eyes staring intently in confusion.

He can’t imagine it, not really. Going out seemed like a thing the past him would’ve done with his significant other. Now? He can barely see himself leaving the house. He wanted to continue his work for Kyouko, but how could that happen if he was going out with someone? It seemed selfish to go out, the glimmer of hope that maybe she was still out there was too real for him to ignore.

The problem was, one day this would be over.

It dawns on him like an epiphany. A terrible one that wrenches his heart and feels like a punch to the gut. He’s lucky that Aoi can’t pick up on the change in his mood, the sudden drawback from the lighthearted conversation they’d been having. One day this _will_ pass, and, whether they had Kyouko back or not, things would have to move on. It wouldn’t be like this forever, the grief and the worry would have to dissipate. He’d have to _let go_.

Even if he did, if he made it out of this and went back to being himself, would Byakuya _want_ to go out?

“What if he doesn’t want to?” His tone is softer, he thanks whatever powers are above that Aoi doesn’t hear the little crack in his voice.

She just scoffs, her eyes widening.

“That’s a dirty move then!” She rocks back on her thighs from where she sits, exasperatedly crossing her arms, “He can’t kiss you and then say no!”

Byakuya Togami… _Going out_ with him…?

It felt so weird to think about, but it's a welcomed sort of weird. That kind of weird that feels undeniably strange, but also carries with it a tinge of excitement for something new. And Makoto thinks he sort of expected it. Where he’d had a consistent feeling of adoration in his gut for the older boy, Byakuya had been more reserved. He’d tried to hide it with annoyance and irritability. But where he’d scorn and insult any of his other classmates, he’d respond to Makoto with only a roll of the eyes. He’d bite at and tear down even the _girls_ in their year, but Makoto would only receive chaste comments and exasperation. It wasn’t a typical ideal, but from Byakuya, it was special treatment. Makoto appreciates it nonetheless.

His long moment of thoughtful silence seems to have brought the conversation to an end. Aoi is staring off into space, only brought back to reality when the sound of footsteps in the hall alert them both.

Byakuya, apparently over his embarrassment, pushes the door open and steps inside Makoto’s room. His resting poker face is unreadable, but he seems to be in a better mood than earlier. Makoto is just about to open his mouth to ask if something had happened when Byakuya answers the question for him.

“Sakura called your phone. I answered it.”

Aoi’s mouth slackens before her eyebrows knit together in puzzled anger. She opens her mouth to respond, probably with yelling, but Byakuya stops her with a raised hand. His lips curl up into the slightest hint of a smile, bemused at Aoi's frustration. Makoto leans in a bit, confused, but eager to hear what the other girl had had to say.

“She told me she’s seen police heading into the area. I assume that’s a good thing.”

Makoto lets himself enjoy a tiny splash of relief, even though the subject was back to what he’d been dreading for so long. It was good news, sort of, the police had taken Mondo’s testimony and the small thing that he’d found and they’d at least put it to good use. Byakuya stands in the doorway still, looking pleased with himself.

It was strange to see him so involved. 

Yes, Kyouko was his classmate, but the two had never gotten along very well. She was infuriatingly clever, and he was too unpredictable. They went head to head too often for Makoto’s liking, but he’d always been the glue that held them together. They’d been friends. Byakuya wasn’t involved because of friendship, though. He was indignant to happenings like this, whether it was only on television or even within his own home.

He was cold and calculating, nothing could get to him. 

But he does have one weakness. Makoto himself had been hurt because of this, and now it was his problem and pain just as much as it was Makoto's. 

It was a warming sentiment. One that made Makoto’s chest feel warm, in a good way. The unconditional care from Byakuya and the idea that maybe, just maybe, the police would be able to find something, _anything_.  Though the negative side of him had insisted the worst, he still has that redeeming quality that he was always praised for: His optimism. It lifts Makoto’s spirits higher than they’d been in so long. 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more depression

 Makoto steps out of the shower, the cold air biting his blistered skin as he wraps a towel around himself. He always used water that was just too hot, the bathroom is filled with steam, making it hard to see even a few feet in front of him. He favors his left ankle as he stumbles to the sink, raising the towel to rub his hair dry. He catches a glimpse of his blurry figure in the fogged mirror, and he brings a hand up to wipe at the moisture. All he really manages to create is a slightly less foggy and wet circle on the glass, but he still tries to look at himself more intently.

He looks older than he remembers, but it'd only been a week since he'd last looked in the mirror. People don’t age that fast. He thinks it lies in the bags under his eyes and the curve of his lips pointing downward, rather than up. His general expression had changed a lot, he notices. He really did look older now, tired and stressed.

He’d slept all day after his friends had gone their separate ways, deeming him well enough to be left on his own. His headache had subsided with the aid of the painkillers, and his twisted ankle was nothing more than a dull throb. It'd been nearly a full day since that morning now, and he thinks he's finally caught up with his sleep debt. 

He tries to smile at himself in the mirror, but he falters. He only looks more depressed with the forced smile lingering on his lips. He sighs gently, turning away from his reflection and leaving the bathroom to get dressed. He kicks some junk out of his way with a bare foot, groaning inwardly at the fact that both Aoi and Byakuya had experienced the cluttered mess that was his room. It was embarrassing, but he’d clean it later. It hardly mattered right now.

The other’s had spent almost an entire day here, sitting around in this trash waiting for him to wake up. They’d been diligent and patient, it meant a lot to him. The impatient girl who never slows down and the boy who’d never stoop to help anyone. But still, they’d cared for him as if there was no question about it. They’d known he was in trouble, and they’d rescued him.

Who was _he_?

In all of this, what person was _he_? The boy who liked to make friends? Or the boy who lost them?

He swallows thickly, shaking his head hard to try and relieve himself of those thoughts. It was guilt he didn’t need to feel, there was no point in continuing to feel this way when there was nothing left to do. He couldn’t beat himself up about not being able to do anything about Kyouko, not when there wasn’t anything he ever could’ve done in the first place. All he’d done is get himself hurt and upset his other friends. It'd just been too long, 24-hours, since they'd heard any news at all. The last words spoken on it had been Sakura's somewhat positive message.

He finishes pulling a shirt over his head, fully dressed now, and throws his towel onto the bed haphazardly. He turns to leave his room, pulling the door closed ever so slowly. Limping, he’s able to make his way down the stairs, staring into the kitchen. He wasn’t even hungry, not really. Eating had been awkward over the last few days. He’d either be gone from home, too guilty, or sleeping. He decides against it, the thought of an upset stomach wholly unappealing.

He fishes his phone from his pocket, unsurprised to see no messages. Aoi and Byakuya had been here with him only yesterday and Kyouko…

He takes a deep, sudden breath, barely keeping his head above the metaphorical waters of that guilt he'd just barely managed to escape. He leans on the back of the couch, staring emptily into his kitchen.

He wonders what Jin Kirigiri is doing right now. If he, only a friend to her, was this upset, this traumatized by what was happening… He couldn’t imagine what her _father_ must feel, he can't imagine having a child and losing them, not for such a petty, senseless reason. He wonders if Jin's angry, if he’s witch-hunting every teen who had been at that party.

Makoto sighs, shifting his weight fully onto his sturdy ankle.

Next school year, would Jin return with a smile and continue teaching? Would he leave and give Hope’s Peak to someone else? What would become of the school then, if it lost its most valuable staff member? Makoto feels selfish, worrying about his school life in the face of a tragedy like this.

He supposes he’s had his fair share of trauma from this, but he wasn’t the only one suffering. He’s her best friend, after all.

Well… _was._

_No_ , he couldn’t let himself think that way! As much as his mind wanted to prepare him for the end, for the worst end, he couldn’t let his shining optimism wear away yet. He had to hold onto that talent. Everyone loved him for that reason. He was determined, optimistic, creative... He always held his friends together with the way he was able to find the silver lining. He can't lose himself. He has to hold on to the hope he still has before it slips away. He had to persevere, despite what was happening. It was all coming to an end, just like he’d realized when he was talking with Aoi. This will _have_ to pass. The hope nestled in his heart tells him that the police will find more because of what he’d managed to find: that little charm.  It tells him that they’ll show up with an unscathed Kyouko and things will go back to how they were.

Yea, that sounds nice…

He hops onto the couch, nursing his ankle by pulling it up to sit next to him. He throws his head back so it plops against the cushion, sighing. He doesn’t really want to eat or watch television, he doesn’t _want_ to do anything right now. There’s nothing to do. He feels bored for the first time in a long time, letting his head loll to look down at his phone, held firmly in his hand.

He brightens as an idea comes into his mind. Maybe Aoi would have him over, or maybe some of his friends he hadn’t seen recently would have some free time. He hadn’t been to Sayaka’s lately, or anyone's place, really. He clicks into his messenger, daydreaming about his fathomed denial and his friends lifts his mood, letting him play a little smile on his lips. Just as his finger comes to press the text bar, an incoming text interrupts him.

**Byakuya: Where are you?**

Makoto thinks maybe he’s got the wrong number or something because that question made very little sense. He was home, right where they’d left him only 24 hours ago.

**Makoto: At home???**

**Makoto: Why?**

**Byakuya: Good**

He furrows his eyebrows in puzzlement, an unsettling feeling digging into his gut. His happy mood is pushed into the dirt. When would all of this stop? He was just trying to have a normal day. He was trying _so hard._

**Byakuya: I’m going to stop by again.**

What? Why?

Makoto doesn’t know whether to relax or to become further unsettled by this proclamation. That must be why he wanted to make sure he was still at home, but why was he just going to come over all of a sudden? Yea, they did have a lot to talk about in private and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy seeing Byakuya, but with all that was going on, nothing felt safe to enjoy. He’d been here just the other day, and then yesterday he’d stayed all night and then part of the morning, so why come over again?

**Makoto: I’m okay, you don’t have to.**

He thinks maybe Byakuya was just needlessly worrying, and that some assurance would let him know it was okay for him to stay home, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.

**Byakuya: Then stop by mine.**

He didn’t seem too worried about Makoto leaving the house, then. He frowns, as flattering as it was that he wanted to see him, why? At least, if Byakuya was insistent on seeing him, he was getting out of the house like he’d wanted to. He’d much rather go over, minding the state of his room, but his ankle… He couldn’t ride a bike like that. If his bike had even come home with him...

**Makoto: I can’t. My ankle is all messed up + I have no idea where my bike is...**

There’s no immediate response, and he thinks maybe he exhausted all of Byakuya’s replies. Maybe he’d just given up.

Maybe he can go to Aoi’s, then She was just down the street a bit, he could walk to her and then maybe, if he wanted to see Makoto that badly, Byakuya could come as well. It sounded like fun, just the three of them at her place.

Byakuya seems to have other plans though, his next text just as equally flooring as the others had been.

**Byakuya: I’ll just come and get you.**

Makoto had known this side of Byakuya existed, the side that did things spontaneously without annoyance or irritation. But it seemed strange that he was showing it so often, so openly. He’d rescued Makoto, spent a night on his couch, and now he was coming to pick him up? He’s moved by the notion, but it's still strange and new.

He supposes if he’s coming to get him that means they're going to his place. No matter how nice he was to Makoto, he wasn’t a people person, going to someone else's house is out of the question. He could tolerate the other students because he had self-control, not because he _wanted_ to be around them. He wasn’t suddenly going to enjoy being social just because of Makoto, just like Makoto wasn’t going to drop his friends just because Byakuya doesn’t like people. Relationships worked like puzzles, they should fit together as they are. You don’t alter puzzle pieces to complete the picture.

Their puzzle seemed to be two pieces, though. No room for anyone else. Byakuya’s antisocial nature made sure of that. Makoto can’t say he minds too much, though. He can see his friends anytime, the still-positive side of him remembers that.

He stands carefully, limping to the front door to lean in the doorway, looking out into his empty driveway. He squeezes his phone, lifting it up to tell Aoi.

**Makoto: Hey, how’re you?**

**Aoi: I’m good! You?**

Makoto smiles, glad to see that she’s feeling alright as well.

**Makoto: Byakuya is coming to see me? I don’t know why yet.**

**Aoi: Oh, Have fun!**

She had been rather enthusiastic at the idea of them being together when he’d spoken to her about it. But she doesn't say anything more, even though she's usually so chatty. He doesn’t like that notion that maybe she's worried about something, but he supposes that's impossible. She couldn’t keep secrets if she tried, she loved to speak. She wouldn’t keep anything important from him, anyways, especially not during this month’s events.

**Makoto: I can come over later, or tomorrow if he keeps me for a while!**

**Makoto: I’m not sure what he wants yet, we might just have a talk.**

**Aoi: Don’t worry about it Makoto.**

He bites his lip, accepting the unsettling assurance. He wants to say more, to ask if anything is bothering her, but an unmistakable sound of tires on asphalt pulls him from the screen.

Byakuya’s sleek, black car, a model Makoto doesn’t even know, pulls to the drive. He’d feel like he was going on a date if it wasn’t for the nauseous feeling in his stomach and the pain in his limp ankle.

The boy in the driver’s seat doesn’t signal him, so he heads down the steps of his porch slowly, trying not to show that his ankle still hurts a good deal. The car door opens smoothly, and he lowers himself into the passenger seat. It’s the littlest bit familiar, but the only time he's ridden in this car, he's been inebriated or unconscious. It’s clean and smells like everything Byakuya owns, like cleanser and lemon. He turns in his seat a little to face the other boy.

“What’s up?”

Byakuya is looking at him intently, and it’s a bit strange when he doesn’t respond. Staring blankly like he hadn’t heard anything Makoto said. It’s the poker face he always wears, so it doesn’t feel too off at first. The engine starts up and Byakuya looks away as he begins to pull out of the drive, his eyes fixated on the road instead.

“Why’d you come get me? Unless you just wanted to see me.”

He says that last bit in a teasing manner, trying to elicit some sort of response from Byakuya. He stays entirely focused on driving, but not in a… _normal_ way. His eyes are completely blank, like he's alone in the car. He’s really starting to freak Makoto out, the smaller boy swallows thickly, reaching out to wave a hand near the driver’s face.

“Uhm… Byakuya?”

“Hm?”

Makoto frowns as he’s finally acknowledged, a bit of the fear lifting off his chest.

“Did you… not hear me?”

“I heard you.”

He only becomes more confused, raising his eyebrows at the driver. What was the deal? Was he angry?

Byakuya hadn’t even been that pissed when Makoto had run off into the woods and gotten injured, but he was mad now? Why?

Makoto gasps as the car jerks to the left, frightened for a moment before he realizes that Byakuya has pulled off the road into a flat spot in the grass. He just stares ahead through the windshield, his eyes are clouded like he’s trying to decide on something. The afternoon sun beats down through the window onto the perfectly black dashboard.

Makoto takes note of the white-knuckled death-grip Byakuya has on the wheel. Something was definitely wrong.

“Byakuya…?”

Makoto thinks for a blissfully naïve moment that something is wrong with the car, but he knows, truly, that nothing is.

Byakuya pulled over because he can’t imagine being able to say what he’s about to say while he’s driving. He can’t wait any longer to tell Makoto, he can’t _keep it_ from him any longer.

“Makoto.”

“Yea? I’m here.”

He reaches out, swallowing hard at the look on Byakuya’s face. He rests his hand on a lean, tense arm, squeezing gently in reassurance. Byakuya takes a deep and forceful breath, looking into Makoto’s face with earnest.

“I spoke to my father when I returned home.”

Makoto is surprised to hear that. He had a comfortable home life, but only because he and his many siblings were graced with wealth. Their home was big enough so they barely had to even encounter one another. Still, Byakuya only brought up his father when business was the subject, was something wrong with the company or something?

“As you may know, he and Jin Kirigiri have history.”

The air in the car shifts suddenly. He’d been concerned about Byakuya, scared something had been wrong with him or his family, but now… Now he knows who the true subject is. He isn’t sure he wants to hear, a little voice in his head telling him to put his hands over his ears. He doesn’t, though, he knows he has to listen. If Byakuya had come get him for this, and if he’d looked so distressed over it, it had to be important.

“He spoke to me about what’s been going on.” He closes his eyes, turning his head away, “Apparently they found something more.”

He takes another deep breath, straightening himself to sit up taller. He’s trying to look strong and indifferent, like a messenger, but Makoto knows him better than that.

“They found… more…”

Makoto makes a face, leaning in so he can look Byakuya in the face. He’s confused, his mind makes sense of the words, but his brain has trouble _really_ processing them. He takes a slow breath, his stomach twisting as he speaks. He has to force the air out to even begin.

“They… They found _parts_ … of her?”

Byakuya chokes, but it seems he hadn’t meant to, his brows furrowing before he clears his throat to try and answer.

“No.” He shifts his arm so he can take Makoto’s hand in his own.

“They found... fabric…”

He sounds too quiet when he says that, startled at Makoto's thoughts. Like he hadn’t even considered the possibility of them finding Kyouko’s body.

Makoto shakes, all the breath in his body leaving him. He just wants this to be over. He’d already thought he’d lost her, only to have his optimism bring him up from the depths. He just wants this to be done, he wants to rest, but any time things seem to be getting better, it all shuts down. Anytime there’s sun on the horizon, it rains again.

He doubles over, his chest meeting his thighs as he bends forwards. He presses his forehead to his knees, his body shakes. He wants to cry, but he finds he can’t, just like before. There’s nothing left in his eyes to let out. The hand tangled with his own pulls away, opting to rest on his back instead. Byakuya rubs in small circles, gentle and comforting. He doesn’t speak, neither of them do. There’s nothing to be said. 

So _this_ was why Byakuya had come to get him.

He’d gotten this exclusive information and didn’t want the gossip to reach him first. He wanted to protect Makoto by being there when he’d heard it, he was frightened by the idea of Makoto being alone to receive news like this. He didn't want him to react like he had before and get himself hurt again.

A delirious chuckle passes through his strained throat, and though he’s slept plenty, he feels like he’s going to pass out. The hand tightens in the fabric of his shirt, grounding him. A thumb gently strokes patterns across his shoulder blade.

“This shouldn’t be happening,” He whispers, shutting his eyes tightly. He feels like a broken record, but there’s nothing else to say.

“I know,” Byakuya sighs, glad Makoto isn’t looking to see the sadness in his eyes. He hates to feel so weak, but he hates to see Makoto like this much more.

Makoto doesn’t want to _go_ anywhere.

He doesn’t want to go home, or even to Byakuya’s.

He wants to stay right here until he can _force_ himself to cry.

“What does it mean?” He sniffs, shaking as he prepares for the answer, “What does it mean that they found all that?”

He sobs dryly, his stomach twisting and turning. He really doesn’t want to throw up in Byakuya’s car.

“Does it mean they’re-“ He coughs, scoffing darkly at his own words, “They’re stopping the investigation again?”

He wants so badly to rip on the authorities, but he knows this is far from their fault.

“No,” Byakuya murmurs softly, his hand stilling, “It means they’re filing her as no longer missing.”

Makoto tenses up. He knew this was coming. God, from the very beginning, he knew. He felt it in the way that everything had happened, he felt it in the dark aura of that street the night he’d fallen.

Dead.

That meant dead.

Missing meant that maybe you’d find your loved one, missing meant hope.

Not missing meant dead. If she was still gone and they knew she wasn't just missing... That was the only option. 

He closes his eyes tighter, forcing himself to breathe. He knows he's in agonizing pain, but he doesn’t feel anything. He’d laugh if there was enough air in his lungs. He was finally losing it, wasn’t he?

Byakuya says nothing more, his hand gently rubbing up and down the expanse of Makoto’s clothed back. He knows the best he can do for Makoto is to let him be, so he sits quietly, respectfully averting his gaze as he sits motionless in the passenger seat of his car.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> getting towards the end. this was really fun to work on, thank you to anyone who gave kudos or left nice messages <3

It’d been a whole week since that day, since Byakuya had come to deliver the news to him. 

After that, people slowly found out the truth. Found out that it was over. Kyouko had been ‘found’. She’d been struck down by drunk drivers and left to die in their panic.

Makoto recalls the memory painfully as he pats out his slacks, swallowing thickly. He’d sat in Byakuya’s car for hours while the older had sat with him diligently, his patience seeming unending. His wish had been for this all to come to an end, for his mind to rest, and now it was coming true. He hadn’t realized that his wish wouldn’t end up with Kyouko’s return, but rather the finalization of her disappearance. The acceptance.

Today was her ‘funeral’.

It was just a closed casket with nothing inside, sitting in the local church that none of them had ever attended before. Up to this day, he’d barely moved. He’d been a shell, blearily, nauseatingly transported from his own home to Aoi’s and then to Byakuya’s and back again. He felt like a child, like he was being put into daycare. Nonetheless, he supposes it was the only thing his friends could think to do for him. Had they left him alone he would’ve been nothing but a burden to his parents, lying like a coma patient in his bed.

Aoi and Byakuya were just looking out for him, they cared about his wellbeing. He was still here, after all. They kept stressing that to him, “We know she’s gone. We’re sorry. But you’re still here, you have to take care of _you_.”

He doesn’t look in the bathroom mirror to check his outfit, he doesn’t care. It was a funeral, not a party. He’d end up looking terrible anyway, after he’ll be forced to watch his friends and his own headmaster say goodbye to a girl that was stolen from them. All of because of a stupid mistake.

He has to seethe through his teeth to protect himself from the voice that whispers, “Your mistake.”

He stands, planted in the doorway of his bathroom. It’s time to head downstairs, but he can’t find it in himself to move. His mind keeps racing, the opposite of his statute figure.

His family, so unknowing of what he was going through, was still sympathetic to his depression. They allowed him to move from place to place without scolding him for never coming home. They took it as his way of grieving, and he supposes it is. The longer he was distracted by Aoi’s upbeat nature or Byakuya’s surprising gentleness, the less often he was thinking about Kyouko and all that had happened this month.

He’d been given a letter, his little sister had handed it to him through the crack in his door just the other day. It was a completely plain letter. White parchment with the only marking being the handwriting of Jin Kirigiri.

It was an invitation.

His family was clingy and pushy, but this was something they seemed to understand.

He’d go alone, sitting amongst a family that wasn’t his by blood, but might as well be his anyways.

Well… almost alone. He’d planned on being on his own, but when he’d brought it up to his friends, it was duly noted that Jin probably wouldn’t mind a plus one. And Byakuya, that gentle side of him still surprising them all, had told him he’d be there.

Makoto’s ankle aches as a dull reminder of reality as he drags himself down the stairs, finally managing to uproot himself from his room. As he limps down the final step, his mother calls out to him, but all he can do is nod to her in response. Byakuya was here, he guessed, sitting in front of the house with the early morning sun shining down on his expensive, black car.

Makoto needed his own car, then he could pick Byakuya up all he wanted and make _him_ ride passenger. He manages a little smile, amused at his own inner thoughts. He hadn’t even gotten his license yet. Not when he thought it was safe to walk everywhere in town. He supposes that’s not true anymore. The smile melts away, replaced by a lump in his throat.

True to his mother’s word, Byakuya is in the driveway. He has to limp down the porch steps. Though he regrets not bringing his ankle to a doctor, he also regrets letting Kyouko go alone that night. Sometimes there are things you just have to go on regretting, and he's fine with the dull throb, as if only to serve as a reminder of what had happened.

He slips into the car like always, mindful of his ankle.

“Hello.”

Byakuya’s voice is taut, formal. He looks formal too, dressed in what Makoto can only assume to be one of his many sets of dress clothes. The formality melts away though, as Makoto glances up to meet Byakuya’s eyes. His stare softens, his hand reaching out to rest on the other’s knee. 

“How’re you?”

“I’m okay.”

He places his own hand on top of Byakuya’s, feeling the skin beneath his fingertips. The taller boy’s other hand is working the steering wheel, pulling them out into the street. Makoto sighs, knowing now isn’t the best time for a talk about their relationship. They’d had all the time in the world leading up to this day, but he’d been so comatose that Byakuya hadn’t even tried. He owes this to the older boy now.

“Byakuya…?”

His eyes flick to their joined hands on his knee, “Are we… _Together_?” He says it in a near whisper, embarrassed and awkward.

Byakuya looks at him in his peripheral vision, his face showing the genuine curiosity in his words. He doesn’t quite understand what Makoto is getting at.

“What do you mean?”

“Like, uhm…” Makoto looks out the window to avoid eye contact, his throat growing even tighter, “After all this… We’ll… go out and stuff?”

Byakuya clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes, but there’s no real annoyance in the actions. He’s obviously able to comprehend Makoto’s ramblings, and he thinks that the boy’s question is ludicrous. Makoto is a bit embarrassed by all of this, he feels awkward, stiff. He doesn’t know how else to put it, but it was an important question that he had to ask eventually.

“Why would I do everything I’ve done for you, just to pretend I didn’t do it, later?”

Makoto bites his lip, still refusing any kind of face-to-face, so Byakuya squeezes his hand, trying to get his point across. He sighs, returning his focus completely to driving as they near their destination. Makoto doesn’t seem wholly convinced, so Byakuya tries again, changing his words to something a bit more sugar-coated.

“I’m not going anywhere, Makoto.”

The boy visibly relaxes, his throat bobbing as he swallows. He fixes his eyes on the church that looms ahead of them. He doesn’t have any sort of thoughts on religion, but the fact that his first experience with this church was his best friend’s funeral… He probably wouldn’t be returning.

Byakuya turns the car off suddenly, startling Makoto out of his thoughts on the building. When they get out of the car and head for the doors, a man welcomes them with a solemn nod. Makoto guesses he works for the church because he’s never seen him before.

They’re holding hands, fingers tightly intertwined. It just felt right to reach for his hand as soon as they stepped out of the car, but now they were in a church. He doesn’t even want to think about what the little old ladies watching them from the corner are thinking. But he can’t bring himself to let go of Byakuya’s hand, and the other obviously doesn’t seem to care about the opinions of the people around them.

He's completely right in thinking that, they were here for Kyouko, _together_. Kyouko would never have told them to let go, so why should some people they didn’t even know?

They walk into the main room for the service, and sure enough, it’s begun. The entire town knows about this, and he’s sure nearly all his classmates will be by at least once before the end of the day, to pay their respects. The only person that he can point out right now is Jin, standing in the very front of the large room. His head is lowered, he looks… terrible.

Makoto swallows as Byakuya pulls him down to sit in the furthest back seat. It seems like no one is paying them any mind, and he’s grateful.

He’s… Why _was_ he doing this? His frame shakes as he tries to catch his breath. He’s doing this because… because he couldn’t have lived with himself if he’d sat at home during this service. It was for closure. It’d been agonizing enough knowing nothing about her whereabouts all that time, then it got worse when he’d been told they’d never find her, but now? Makoto knows nothing but that Kyouko is gone.

He just wants to let go, to let the rest of the summer pass in a blur. Nothing could be the same. The entire month had been hell, a summer turned into a nightmare.

Byakuya is doting, his hand returns to Makoto’s knee on instinct. The consistent contact serves as a reminder to stay grounded, to not lose himself in front of all of Kyouko’s family. The service passes without Makoto truly understanding what’s happening, not really. He just watches with empty eyes as family members come and go. There are laments, and sniffles and cries. The only voice he listens to is Jin. He’s been trained to listen to that voice from his first day at Hope’s Peak. That voice meant something.

Jin talks about his daughter the way Makoto would have. He never refers to her as a “poor soul”. Not even once. He talks about how wonderful she was, about her spirit and her personality. He removes himself as he continues his speech about her, slowly breaking down as he tries to deliver his eulogy.

Somehow, Makoto still can’t cry.

The rest of the ceremony passes with a surreal quality. He feels as though he’s standing in a movie, or like he’s a ghost. It all happens regardless of him, and he stands emptily in the foyer of the church. He doesn’t even remember when they’d moved. His only link to what’s happening is Byakuya’s presence beside him. He’s silent, but Makoto knows where he is, his hand gently seeking out it’s other.

Even as it all draws to a close, families hugging and bidding farewell, crying and offering one another tissues, Makoto still doesn’t cry. Not one tear.

He takes an unsure step towards the door, his hazy brain trying to get him to leave. He can’t focus, it's all becoming too much.

Byakuya follows him, not planning on stopping his escape, but someone else intervenes before he can step out the door.

“Naegi Makoto.”

It’s Jin. He stands a few feet away, his figure becoming clear despite Makoto’s blurry vision. God, when was the last time he blinked? His sticky eyelids tell him that it was too long. He knows it’s important that he have this talk with Jin, but he doesn’t know if he’s ready.

“Thank you…” His voice is shaky as he approaches, “For everything… You- You were her best friend. She’d be so grateful for all you’ve done.”

Makoto nods blankly, trying to offer what he can without speaking. He’s afraid he’ll finally be able to cry if opens his mouth. He doesn’t want to cry, he doesn’t want to make things harder for Jin. He doesn’t feel like he’s done anything at all, but he doesn’t try to be modest. You can't respond with, “Oh, it was nothing.” When you’re talking about such a sensitive subject. Because it _wasn't_ nothing. It was nothing short of _everything._ The everything of every negative emotion thought possible and the everything of losing everything when someone you love is taken away from you. It was so much more than nothing.

“It’s okay…” He whispers shakily, trying hard to force a contented face. 

He goes to leave, the smile he’d tried to offer immediately falling away. Byakuya takes his hand again from where he’d been waiting, but it seems Jin isn't done yet. He reaches back out, a hand grasping his shoulder to stop him and spin him around. 

"Wait..." Jin digs in the pocket of his suit, tired fingers feeling around. What's grasped in his palm when he pulls his hand out is something he'd never thought he'd see again. It's that charm, that little purple keychain. Though it's made of rubber and plastic, it's worth its weight in absolute gold. It's as if Jin is offering him a diamond, small and delicate. He takes Makoto's hand and drops it into his palm, offering a bittersweet smile. He closes the boy's fingers around it, patting his hand gently as he pulls away.  Stepping back to watch them go, Jin raises his hand in a small, slow wave. Though Makoto opens his mouth to say a small, meaningless 'thank you', Jin shakes his hand to stop him, still smiling.

"It's yours. You found it." 

He’d let Makoto have it, the little piece of Kyouko that he'd fretted about and nearly gotten killed over. 

He’s grateful, more than grateful... He feels as though he owes Jin an unrepayable debt now, but he’d needed to hear that from him, to look his best friend’s father in the face. 

Byakuya tugs his hand, noticing his emotional trembling, and pulls him out of the front door, walking briskly towards his car. 

Though the car is started, it doesn’t move to pull it out. Instead, the driver's eyes are fixed on Makoto, who lays his head back against the seat’s headrest, his eyes closing tightly. For the first time since he’d fallen in the street that night, tears force their way from his eyes. He doesn’t know what’d been keeping him from letting it out, but he covers his face with his hands as sobs rack his chest. 

In all honesty, It felt good to cry.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I based this story off of real-life stuff that happened to me but I also wanted to write some naegami/naegi angst and what better way to write naegi angst than to kill off his friends? (In all seriousness I adore Kirigiri, I only did this so I could write a more depressing side of Naegi.) thanks for any kind messages and any kudos !

Makoto is going to host a party.

The start of school isn't really anything to be excited about. The fact that this will be their final year of high school is actually the only reason to combine festivities with that utterly dreadful feeling of back-to-school. It feels like it's been a long time since the month of Kyouko's disappearance. Memories of what had happened come and go like the long-since dulled pain in his ankle, gentle reminders of what had been. Closure is a stranger to Makoto, but the funeral had been enough to sever the tie between himself and the ever-painful misery that came from his journey through summer hell. He'd done his best to get back in his place, to remain that friendly boy everyone knew him as. The others, his friends, seemed cautious at first, uncharacteristically calm and quiet. But He’d assured them all that he was still himself, they needn’t act like he was someone to be cautious around. He had to get back to who he was before... Before it _all._

He relearned how to have genuine, relaxed fun. He’d forgotten how nice that felt.

Nothing but fond support had been thrown his way by his friends, the friends who were still here, the ones who needed him to take control of his life again. Even people like Mondo Oowada, whose name now carried a sour taste and sometimes revived the throb to his head and the constrict to his heart, had given him a less-hard-than-usual clap on the shoulder and told him to take it easy. That unending support, it helped him to stand on his feet again.

_“Are you sure you want to do this?”_

That’s what Byakuya had asked him.

He’d been at his  _boyfriend's_  house when he’d decided that he would push forward and make something out of the rest of this summer. He’d managed to run into a group of kids from their graduating class one afternoon, and rather than staring at him in pity, they’d gathered around him and treated him like they always had, like he hadn't been locked up in his house all June.

They're  _good friends_ , and Makoto can't help but gush that he just, 'loves them with all his heart'.

For himself and Byakuya, things had been able to move forward on their own. They’d only grown closer since the funeral, rather than apart like Makoto had feared. He’d been leaning on the sleek hood of the midnight-black car, having arrived at Byakuya’s house after being picked up from his own. His ankle felt better, but his bike had been long since abandoned. He hadn't figured that his injury would lead to free car rides whenever the other boy was available.

He’d responded to Byakuya’s question smoothly, _“I am. I won’t turn into a hermit because of this. I still have my friends, I plan on keeping them.”_

_“But no one expects you to bounce back, Makoto.”_

_“I know,”_ He’d smiled and turned to face the other boy, who’d come to lean on the car beside him, _“But I’m ready.”_

He _was_ ready, he felt. He could have all of his friends, and they’d all come here, to _his_ home, and they’d have a party. Makoto never much cared for parties, and certainly not back-to-school, for that matter, but it was a step he needed to take. If only to prove that he was alright, he was okay.

They’d have fun.

Now, Makoto, he's the kind who's always accepting and laid-back, he allows people to do whatever they want to. He doesn’t control anyone, and he doesn’t feel the need to. But he's adamant, as he'd stated to Byakuya during the planning of said party, that alcohol was the quickest way to disaster. He’d been proved right once, he wouldn’t have it happen again. It'd only taken that one night, those few cans of beer, to make Makoto swear off the substance for good. There would be absolutely no drinking tonight.

But in the here and now, snapped back to reality, he stands with Byakuya in his own living room. His little house is clean and tidy, as is his room, thanks to Byakuya’s stern orders of cleanliness. His family, on another note, had been excited, glad to see him enthusiastic about something. He’d spent all of June locked away, but now he stands with bright eyes from before, happy and upbeat... Though a little wiser, a little older.

Aoi comes bounding in the front door, bouncing and laughing. She’s even more excited than he is, ecstatic at the prospect of a party, less so at the idea of heading back to school.

“Hey! I’m really glad we’re doing this!”

Byakuya shifts his weight next to Makoto and crosses his arms, “You did bring the rest of the supplies, correct?”

Aoi laughs, flicking her wrist at him nonchalantly, “Of course!”

And Makoto laughs along with her, the sound brilliant and fulfilling. 

Byakuya allows himself a small smile, his cerulean eyes fixated on the bright smile that Makoto offers. It feels like years ago to the older boy, when Kyouko had gone missing at the party. Byakuya had only shown up at Hagakure’s in hopes of seeing Makoto, of course. He’d had feelings for the boy for as long as he can remember. Of course,  he feels as though Makoto doesn't need to know that; It's a bit embarrassing, after all. It does make him feel a warmth he hadn’t known previously, when he sees Makoto with shimmering hazels and a toothy grin. It makes him fall only harder, only further in his, dare he call it _'love',_ for him.

Makoto turns that heart-lifting smile to Byakuya as he looks up at him, leaning into the warmth of his arm as he instinctively wraps it around the shorter boy’s waist.

“People are gonna start showing up!” Aoi teases them in her singsong voice, pointing at their joined figures. Byakuya frowns, his face flushing a light pink, but Makoto only laughs and leans in closer, shifting to press his forehead into the crook of the other's neck. It doesn’t bother him for the others to know, they probably already knew anyways. That was fine with him.

Aoi hops away, sprints like lightning to the front door to peek out into the driveway. She calls to someone that the boys can’t see, and she waves to them, beckoning them closer. She runs out the door and jumps down the porch steps, running out into the front yard like an excited child. Makoto chuckles, but he hesitates to follow. He's not ready to move, not yet. And Byakuya doesn’t usher him, his hand steady on the other’s waist.

He sighs in a way that says he's content. Sighs out all of the negative emotions that could potentially crash his good mood. He’d wished it’d been him instead, to be taken instead of his best friend. And there's part of him that would still be okay with that, the part that would always love Kyouko, but then he knows there’s no sense in wishing to change things, not now. He’d been told, by his friends, by his _boyfriend_ , and even by schoolmates he didn’t know, that they were glad he was alright. They needed him here, he was important to them. And though he misses her a great deal, he doesn't want to leave anymore. He wants nothing more than to stay forever in the light of support and comfort that his friends bring. 

He finally understands. What he thought was only felt by him, that strong sense of devotion to his best friend, to Kyouko. His friends feel that same thing for him, and there's no way he'd ever cause them the pain he'd felt before. No, he's here to _stay._

He smiles, squaring his shoulders and pulling his form to stand at full stature. He was ready, ready for the party he's to have with his friends. He makes a move to stand on tiptoe, pressing a chaste kiss to Byakuya’s cheek as he takes the boy’s hand, pulling him out the door to follow Aoi. To greet whoever had shown up.

This was his new start, he’d be sure to make the best of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I said I'd give the lowdown on what really happened in the event this is based on, so here it is.
> 
> I was 11 so ofc I wasn't drinking or anything. My best friend at the time, (we'll call her 'G') and I were at her house. G lived out in the backcountry and the roads were actually really dangerous because even tho there was barely anyone out there, when someone did come by they were going like 85 mph. It was like midnight or some shit (its hard to recall everything) and she said she was gonna go and get something from her 'treehouse' (which was actually a lean-to made of sticks down the road) and she went walking down the road and I waited in her driveway for like an hour. I was young so I wasn't really worried about her going missing bc I didn't think things like that could really happen. But sure enough her mom and dad started freaking out when she didn't come back for like 3 hours and started looking for her. I had a really hard time after this that sort of forced me to grow up. It took about a month for there to be any news and ofc I wasn't hearing anything firsthand bc my parents tried to keep me out of it. I had often wished I'd gone with her or that I'd gone to get whatever the hell she went to find and I wished that I was with her or that I'd been taken instead but my family and my other friends were really supportive and that really inspired me to keep going even though I lost someone really close to me. But the gist of what happened is that she was either hit by a car and when the people tried to help her, she died, so they tossed her somewhere to avoid legal stuff, or she was kidnapped. The only closure I ever got was her little funeral thing and I still, to this day, don't know what happened to her. I want to think that at least her parents found out, but I haven't spoken to them since. It's been such a long time that it doesn't upset me as much as It did then and ofc I changed a lot of the story to fit older and different characters.

**Author's Note:**

> Also! This is my first fanfic I've completed beforehand, so please don't leave nasty comments about how I should, "Change this" or, "I don't like that." Because the fic is done and I've proofread more times than I can count. While I know I've always room to grow, I'm not taking constructive crit right now because I've spent so long on this that it's to the best of my abilities. Please don't tell me to alter anything unless it is an error I can clean up in less than ten minutes and won't dramatically alter the story.


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